


Mirror For The Sun

by imhereforbvcky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhereforbvcky/pseuds/imhereforbvcky
Summary: Nat tricks you into leading a road trip with Bucky, Sam and Steve. Her plot is partly to get the boys to travel for fun for once but mostly to get you and Bucky together. You and Bucky, who seemingly despise each other.





	1. The Idea

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is almost exclusively in Bucky's POV; Chapter 1 is the only exception.

“Alright, my turn,” Natasha smirks, taking her stance and firing an impeccably placed dart into the board. Damn it. Why did I agree to play her? She must play Clint all the time. She’s going to beat me.

“Best city for a night out.” She must have known Steve would give a less than satisfactory answer because she raises a finger towards him and specifies, “I mean, pick up a girl, one night stand, kind of night out.” I can’t help but snort thinking about Steve trying to talk himself into leaving after a one night stand. He’s so damn chivalrous.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing about, Buck,” Steve fires at me, “you’ve been on fewer dates than me in the last decade!”

That shut me up. He’s right, I haven’t really gotten back into the swing of it yet, haven’t really tried. I scowl at Steve before picking up my set of darts and flicking one into the target. “New York,” I answer, willfully ignoring Steve’s taunting.

An exasperated sigh drops Steve’s shoulders as he concedes to Nat’s teasing question. “Fine. I’ve got to go with New York too. Though let me say…”

“What? No!” She interjects. “You two can’t pick New York for _everything_! Come on. Miami? Rome? LA? All better choices for this one. Try again.”

Nat had made a rule a few rounds back that we could only answer with places we’d been as civilians. Neither of us were willing to admit we’d never really been anywhere other than on a mission. I think Steve was just a little embarrassed, but to me… somehow it felt like an accusation. I don’t know why I thought the goddamn Black Widow wouldn’t catch me in a lie.

I shift away from her, probably scowling and fire another dart a little harder than intended. Of course, she sees that. She doesn’t miss a damn thing. Leaning up from the high-top table, her discerning gaze lands on me before flitting to Steve, he looks so aggravated, shoving his sleeves higher up his forearms. I smirk and throw my second dart, trying not to laugh. She really knows how to wind him up.

“Wow,” she teases, letting her jab hang in the air, “I can’t believe you two are - what over a hundred now? - and have never left the city?! It’s tragic, really–”

“We’ve left the city,” Steve grumbled, “we were all just in Germany, and Bucharest befo–”

“Captain America’s never seen America, who would’ve thought.”

God, she’s good. I find myself laughing at his frustration: arms crossed, tight lipped, disapproving sigh. No one gets under his skin quite like her. I don’t really care that this joke is also at my expense, Steve is so worked up over it, I can’t help but enjoy it a little.

Too much apparently. I’m blindsided when Nat turns her sharp green eyes on me, smirking in a way that has me really worrying. “You two are going on a road trip.” She informs, yeah _informs_. There’s no arguing when she’s like this. “I’ll arrange the whole thing. I’m calling Sam and Y/N now.”

Steve fucking lights up at the idea. He loves Sam, they’re unbearable together. I swear they could talk themselves into jumping off the edge of the Grand Canyon. But god, Y/N. “No, come on. Sam’s bad enough. Why Y/N?”

“You two need a navigator,” she replies simply, “and if you think I’m letting the three of you run off on your own unsupervised…” she doesn’t even finish, just flicks her wrist rolling her eyes as she lifts the phone to her ear.

“And you think _she’s_ going to be more responsible?” A cynical laugh erupts from my chest, “She put glitter all over my arm _last week!_ ”

“You complained about her gift because the wrapping had glitter, Bucky,” she shrugs, looking truly bored. “You needed to lighten up.”

“It was stuck in the plates for DAYS!” I fume at her, “I still find it in my sweatshirts! In my _bed!_ ”

Nat just laughs, cool as ever, “Hey, Y/N, what are you doing the next few days?”

* * *

You fly around your apartment after hanging up with Nat stuffing everything you can think of into your bag. You know exactly where to take Steve and Bucky. Your favorite spots: a good mix of silly fun, big cities, rugged country and tourist traps. They’ll get a little bit of everything, and it’ll be a blast with Sam in tow.

It’s unfortunate that you’ll have to be stuck in a car with Bucky for that long. _Really_ unfortunate. He’s so goddamn irritating and knows exactly how to get under your skin. He’s just impossible to read. One second he’s smirking at you with annoying over-confidence and the next snipping at you, the next grouchy and silent. It’s exhausting and you aren’t one to walk on egg-shells to suit his mood. Evidently, he doesn’t love that about you.

You know you should be careful saying things like ‘enemy’ around people like Steve and Bucky, heroes who have actual threatening enemies, but Bucky is _your_ archenemy. Even if you don’t even make the list of threats for him. The dread quickly subsides as you focus on the thought of a fresh cross-country adventure.

You unearth the old atlas you’ve had for years, it’s outdated but you love it and bring it on every trip. Over the years you’ve placed a big red circle over every city you’ve visited, tracing your pathways across the country. It’s covered in red as you quickly flipped through its pages, mapping the familiar highways  you’ll take this time. You finally force yourself into bed knowing it will be an early morning and along drive.

* * *

The soft knock on the door at 3am is more than enough to get your attention. You jump for the door, slinging your dufflebag over your shoulder and your atlas under your arm on your way to open it. Nat grins at you as you spin around to lock the door.

“Ok, it might be all the coffee talking, but I’m so excited for our first stop!” You sputter out at record pace. Nat grabs your bag and tosses it into the trunk as you continue to prattle on, “I didn’t have time to make a playlist for the road, but I’m sure Sam has something good. Did you bring a bathing suit? I think we’ll need it for the first and last stops and maybe…” You pause long enough to slide into the back seat.

“Uuuugh.” you scoffed quietly as your shoulder brushes against Bucky’s when you slip into the middle seat beside him, making room for Natasha. This is going to be a long trip with three in the back seat!

You feel Bucky’s chuckle reverberate through his chest and against your arm long before you hear it rumble in your ear. “You just want to cuddle, sweetheart? Or should we go back up to your place?” he asks nodding back towards your apartment building, that irritating smirk tugging at his full pink lips. Okay, apparently it’s over-confident annoying Bucky this morning.

“Buck!” Steve warns.

“Get over yourself, Barnes,” you fire back with no small measure of disgust, rolling your eyes. “I’m just making room for Natash–”

“Have fun, guys. Don’t kill each other!” she calls before shutting the door you’d just crawled into, she smirks at you through the window. God she’s irritating. She kept telling you that you and Bucky would make a good couple but you couldn’t imagine anything worse, and this is exactly why.

At some point Bucky had slid his arm up over the back of the seat behind you, leaving him lazing against the window to openly leer at you as you awkwardly try to shuffle back to your side of the car. You _hate_ him. He groans when you ‘accidentally’ kick his knee trying to scoot over.

“What’s the matter, baby, was it something I said?” he taunts, still watching you struggle to yank the seatbelt across your body.

“It’s _everything_ you say, Bucky,” you sneer, “and I am NOT your baby!”

“Will you two knock it off?” Sam hollers, startling you out of your glare, “Damn. We haven’t even left the parking lot!” Bucky continues to smirk until Sam throws a skittle directly at his cheek. “And you! Quit being an ass.”

You snort and settle your feet onto the middle seat, establishing a firm boundary while Bucky glares at Sam, hunting for the candy to throw back.

“Where to, Y/N?” Steve asks shaking his head with a small smile.

“West.”


	2. Cedar Point

“Okay! Okay! I recognize this!” Y/N shouts slapping my arm absentmindedly as she leans forward between the front seats. “Go left up here.”

I had been pleasantly sleeping before this rude awakening. I groggily force myself more upright and swat her hand away “Stop hitting me.”

She stops, but doesn’t answer me in any other way. She doesn’t lean back to include me or tell me where we were, or even turn her head in the slightest to acknowledge me. Shit. I’ve really pissed her off. I thread my hand into my hair, pushing it off my face and catch Steve’s warning glare in the mirror. I can practically hear his mom-voice _‘You don’t have to snap at her Buck, she’s just excited.’_

“Aww is sleeping beauty awake?” Sam. Fucking Sam. He never quits. “I’m starting to wonder if that cryo thing is a load of bull, apparently you just need a good long car ride. My nephew’s the same way, he’s about 2?”

“Shut up,” _Shut up?_ Really? That’s all I can come up with? I am definitely not a morning person. “What the hell are we doing here? What’s worth seeing in…” I squint at the GPS on the dash, “Sandusky?”

That gets Y/N’s attention. She jumps back onto the seat, seemingly forgetting her grudge against me. It’s kind of cute how excited she is, sitting on her feet, all flailing hands and wild excited eyes.

“What’s worth… Bucky! It’s Cedar Point!” She stares at me expectantly, eyes wide, waiting for a reaction, but I have none to give. “Okay. An ISLAND… well peninsula, but close enough… an ISLAND _FULL_ OF _ROLLER COASTERS!”_ I’m trying not to smile at her excitement, because it’s still Y/N, but she looks fucking adorable right now, just… bubbling. “I haven’t been in a while, but there’s one that you sit in this… car, I guess, and it shoots you super fast in this huge arc and back at over 100 miles an hour!”

“Just one hill?” It just falls out of my mouth and her shoulders drop. She looks exasperated with me again already. I didn’t mean to annoy her, not this time, but it seems I can’t help it this morning.

“Well, that one yeah because it goes so fast.” She looks a little deflated before a glint of excitement sparks in her eyes again and she lunges at me, reaching over my shoulder. “There it is!”

After I realize she’s pointing out the window behind me and I’ve adjusted to how close she is, and how soft her skin is against my arm and shit, her hair smells so… Okay, enough! This is Y/N. The girl who glitterbombs my arm and whines every damn time I eat the leftovers and laughs all the fucking time.

Finally my eyes follow her outstretched arm out the window to see the colorful peaks of thin metal structures arching into the sky over the water. I have to admit, it looks exciting. Right up Steve’s alley.

* * *

When we finally make it through the turnstiles Y/N is absolutely beaming but I feel so out of place here. I’m sure every parent is clutching their children a little closer while they eye my arm. It’s too damn hot to wear long sleeves, that would be suspicious too, so I’m out here in a t-shirt like one big fucking silver target. They all think I’m threatening, but really I’m the one that’s uneasy.

Steve snaps me out of my spiral of defensive anger with a hand on my shoulder, “You’re alright, man,” he tells me quietly so the others don’t hear, but I catch Sam’s quick glance anyway. He might be a pain in the ass but after everything, I know he has my back too.

I can do this. I nod quickly and raise an eyebrow toward Y/N as she bounds back with a colorful map in her teeth and an enormous stack of some bready dough that smells… shit, it smells amazing! Like sugar and cinnamon and…

Before I can think she’s peeling one of the layers from the stack and pushing it into my hands, one for Steve and Sam, too. She’s so absurd, she actually closes her eyes and smells hers, breathing in deep and slow before licking her lips and biting down on a flopping doughy edge.

“Uungh! So good!” She groans smiling at Sam who’s already wolfed down half of his.

“Okay!” she announces, pulling Steve by the arm, practically skipping toward the back of the park. “We start at the back and work our way forward, the lines will be shorter back there right now. And that way when we’re done and I’m too tired to move, Bucky doesn’t have to carry me all the way from the back of the park, we’ll already be at the gate!” She looks back over her shoulder and winks at me. I can’t tell if she’s flirting or just mocking me and it annoys the shit out of me.

I think it’s a peace offering? But I’m too defensive about her and about being in such a crowded place so I blurt out, “I’m not carrying you anywhere, Princess.”

I can tell from here that she’s irritated. She’s leaning her head on Steve’s shoulder, looking at him with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, begging him to leave me in the car, probably. I don’t know why Natasha sent her on this trip. Every word I say sets her on edge and she drives me insane.

“You just eat your Elephant ear and don’t worry your pretty little head, Bucko,” Sam steps in, snatching a piece of my elephant ear and stuffing it into his mouth. “We’ll make sure you’re back to the car in time for your afternoon nap,” All I can do is glare as he swallows _my_ food with a satisfied grin.

* * *

We finally make it to the first roller coaster and Y/N darts through the dividers, eager to find her place in line. The three of them are laughing about something called a meme? I don’t get it, and I’m sure everyone is staring at me, and it’s so damn hot. I finally just snap. “Did that sign say the line is an hour wait?!”

“Yeah, that’s not too bad. Some of them are really long, but this isn—“

 _“An hour?!”_ I thunder at her, I’m so fucking aggravated that it just bubbles out of my mouth before I even think about how it comes off to her. “We’re supposed to wait out here in the heat for _an hour_ to ride a roller coaster?! You know we jump out of planes on a regular basis, right? I mean, we repel off buildings, Sam literally _flies_ around in a bird suit. This isn’t exactly exciting.” I muse, more to myself than anything as I push my hair back and readjust my hat, “An hour!”

I’m settling down a little just having vented a little, but then I look down and Y/N looks completely lost. All the excitement is gone, though she’s trying to smile. Shit.

“I…” She stammers, “I used to love it here when I was a kid, I thought… I didn’t think about that.” Shit shit shit.

Steve’s hand slams into my bicep while he drags me backward away from Y/N and Sam muttering some thin excuse about wanting to go buy a water bottle.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He spits, the mom-eyes are gone and he’s glaring at me with full-blown disappointed Captain face. It’s unbearable how condescending he is sometimes.

“What? An hour is a long wait!” I know I shouldn’t have snapped like that, but I’m not ready to roll over just because Steve says to.

He huffs and I yank my arm out of his hand. “I don’t care how bored you are, Y/N was over the damn moon and this is her vacation too…” he continues to give me a lecture that I already know I deserve.

I glance back and Sam has Y/N laughing again. For some reason that irritates more me and I just want to have a run at Sam now, but I manage to nod at the appropriate points of Steve’s lecture and make it through the day without accidentally yelling at anyone else.

The roller coasters are actually pretty fun. Hurtling down a track that you know is at least moderately safe is a completely different thrill than the dangerous shit we do for missions. There are consequences on a mission, and you’re worried about the danger and constantly assessing risk and preparing for injury. This is a sort of careless risk and damn it if Y/N isn’t right. It’s really fucking fun.

* * *

Between the heat, the excitement, and spending the entire day on our feet, Y/N and Sam are completely worn out by the end of the day. Sam is so goddamn whiny when he’s tired. When we make it back to the car Sam slinks into the front seat and Y/N finally slips off of my back, her fingers trailing over my shoulders. Apparently she’s been taking notes on how Natasha always gets her way, because damn it, I did end up carting her to the car on my back, her legs wrapped around my waist, arms slung loosely over my shoulders.

“Thanks, Bucky,” she mumbles groggily shuffling to the other side of the car. I’m already settling in, working on taking my shoes off when I hear a thunk. “Oww,” she complains with a small, tired giggle. She rubs the side of her head and dips, more carefully this time, into the car. She seems so exhausted, everything is clumsy and… adorable?

What the hell is wrong with me, she hates me.

She pads in a location on the map on her phone and passes it to Steve. “Here this will tell you where to go. 4 hours then bed, if you don’t drive like a grandpa, grandpa.”

Steve laughs and takes the phone, “At least I don’t need a nap every four hours like you infants.”

Y/N smiles and stretches out. “Oh so you’re embracing your old age now, that’s a good step, Stevie.”

I know she _must_ be tired because she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that she’s not just taking up her seat and the middle seat anymore, she’s curled up against my leg. I hover awkwardly for a moment, there’s nowhere for me to put my arm without touching her.

Y/N must sense my tension because she doesn’t even open her eyes when she mumbles, “Would you relax? I’m just sleeping. Or are you backing out on that cuddle now?”

Did she just…? Is she flirting? That tiny smirk sets my brain traveling in a thousand directions. I can’t even manage to respond beyond a smile, I just sink my fingers into her hair and hold as still as I can, not wanting to ruin this with my big mouth or by even moving too much.

I started the day tired and irritable and somehow instead of making it worse, she managed to make me relax and forget about the stress of the crowds and the heat. And now for some reason she’s curled up against me like a kitten and her touch is warm and her hair is so soft. I think… I like it.

I catch Steve’s eye in the rear-view mirror and I realize from his expression that I must be grinning like an idiot and quickly adjust, reaching for the ipod.

I don’t know how Sam even knew, he was fucking snoring, but his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. “If you change this song, man, I will throw you out of this car.”

“You’re sleeping!” I protest, this is ridiculous.

“Dude, I won’t even tell Steve to stop the car. You’ll just _poof_ ” he makes an irritating little gesture, eyes still closed, “out the damn car.”

“I hate you.”

“It’s good music, man. You’re welcome.”

“Would you two shut up?” Y/N snaps, “Damn. We haven’t even left the parking lot yet.” She’s grinning proudly, having scolded Sam with his own words.

“Go to sleep, Princess,” he fires back with mock-aggression.

“Tryin’!”


	3. Chicago

Natasha fires off a quick text, and sets the phone back on the table before lifting a small handgun off the rack and slipping it into a holster on her hip.

> _Progress update?_

She has two missions right now, one is easy, a simple international arrest, she’s well prepared, and doesn’t expect much resistance. The other… requires a more delicate hand.

The phone pings softly. Rogers. She sets her last defense tools into place and picks up the phone, unlocking the screen as she saunters out of the weapons hold.

She’s smirking at the photo Steve’s sent her. It’s Y/N curled into a ball with her head on Bucky’s lap in the backseat of the car that Nat had sent them all off in less than 24hrs prior. His fingers are peaking through tangles of Y/N’s hair sprawled over his lap. Bucky’s head is rolled to the side, sleeping soundly. They look comfortable together, like they just fit.

Physical contact. Step one took less time than expected.

* * *

Y/N bounds out of the hotel room stuffing a handful of newly printed mystery emails into her pocket. She’s clicking away on her phone and looking up at the steady stream of cars, until she finds the one she’s looking for. She climbs into the front seat and greets the driver, quickly instructing him to make no mention of our destination.

After yesterday, I’m trying not to be a dick, but she’s making it really damn hard. She won’t tell any of us where we’re going, which is annoying as hell because she keeps bursting with anticipation, insisting that Steve and I are going to love it. I fucking hate surprises.

We’re packed into the back of this stranger’s car and I’m elbowing Sam because for some reason Y/N, easily the smallest of the four of us, has claimed the front seat. Meanwhile Steve, Sam and I are jammed into the back seat and Sam won’t keep his knees on his side of the car.

“Where the hell are we going, Y/N?” I ask her, grunting as Sam stomps on my foot.

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” she rolls her eyes and smiles at the driver who laughs with her. “We’re almost there. You’ll see it in a minute.”

I’m not sure where we are. We got into Chicago so late last night that we all just stumbled straight into bed. This afternoon is clear and warm, but this afternoon, crammed in the middle seat, I can’t see much except that we’ve left the city behind. I thought I saw the lake on our right earlier so we must be heading north.

The crowds of people on the street begin to thicken, more and more people wearing bright blue and red t-shirts and a few in white pinstriped jerseys when it finally dawns on me where we’re heading. I lean over Steve just in time to see the stadium erupt from an otherwise ordinary city street. Wrigley Field!

I’m completely dumbstruck, staring out the window at the iconic red and white lettering. I’ve seen that lettering since I was a kid, only in photographs, of course, but still. This… It’s like going back in time. The same stadium they’ve been playing in since we were kids listening to the games on Steve’s living room floor, filling out our score cards… One of the oldest teams in the league… I’m starstruck. Is it possible to be starstruck by a building? I am. And so is Steve.

Y/N taps on the window, grinning, ear to ear. I realize she and Sam have left the car while Steve and I were gaping like idiots. I gruffly shove Steve out of the car before climbing out myself.

“Y/N, this is a great idea! I’ve always wanted to see this stadium,” Steve gratefully slides an arm over her shoulders and gives her a tight squeeze walking toward the building.

“Well, I wanted to make up for yesterday,” she looks back at me then back up to Steve and Sam. Damn it. “Bucky was right, the roller coasters… that was more for me than you guys. So today is guy day.” She’s grinning and urging us all forward, but I’m hanging back, feeling like a complete ass for having complained about the fucking roller coasters. She didn’t need to do this. Why is it that even when she does something nice I end up feeling like I’ve fucked up somehow?

“C’mon, grumps!” she takes my hand and pulls me forward and I realize that I haven’t said anything to her all morning apart from _“where the hell are we going”_ and instead of thanking her for this, for yesterday, all of it, I’m scowling. I have certainly earned that nickname, without even meaning to I’ve earned it three times already and it’s barely noon.

While Sam and Steve have hurried ahead into the crowd, Y/N’s still holding my hand, walking beside me. I want to thank her, to tell her how shockingly thoughtful and nice this is, but I’m a fucking idiot and I over-do it.

I yank her hand that’s in mine, spinning her, stumbling into my arms. I can’t help smiling at how sweet she looks curled against me, she’s looking up at me, eyes wide. There’s a moment where I’m completely surprised by the sudden urge to kiss her, hard. My brain is buzzing with the realization that she isn’t pulling away. I _have_ to test this but my idiot mouth gets ahead of my brain.

“This is pretty amazing, doll,” I start off ok, “but you didn’t have to drag me 12 hours across the country just to hold my hand,” There it is. She turns instantly, the cold hard look filling her eyes as she shoves me away. I was trying to tease her, to… it all came out wrong and she must think I’m mocking her.

“Why do you always do that?” She scoffs, but I can tell it’s rhetorical as she digs in her pocket, peeling away one of the sheets of paper she’d stashed there earlier and shoving it into my chest. “Here.” The second I have a hand on it she turns, jogging off to find more grateful companions, I can only assume.

I look after her for a minute, before I tip my head back, letting out a frustrated sigh. Unfolding the paper she’d pushed at me, I see it’s a ticket. She got us tickets to the fucking game and I just sent her storming off as thanks.

* * *

The game is perfect, of fucking course. We’re in absolute nose-bleed seats. Just how Stevie and I used to see games as kids in Brooklyn. Now it keeps us safe from unwanted attention. It’s just plain fun and cheap and exactly how baseball should be enjoyed.

Y/N keeps dragging Sam with her to bring back beer and hot dogs or popcorn or some stupid souvenir. She won’t admit it but I’m pretty sure she’s enjoying this just as much as we are.

A few people recognize Steve, despite his cap and glasses, but he’s gracious and quietly poses for pictures and chats with each smiling face while I casually watch the game, happy to go mostly unnoticed.

While Y/N and Sam are coming back with snacks the man currently talking to Steve demands my attention too, addressing us both and inviting us to some bar later. I don’t pay it much attention, leaving the small talk to Steve. Y/N notices, though.

“What the hell? How’s a girl supposed to find a man with you two pretty boys stealing all the attention?” she plops back into her seat, pulling her knees up to her chin. I roll my eyes, and keep my mouth shut, but Steve just can’t leave it alone.

“What are you talking about?” he defends, “He seems like a nice guy, he invited us to some bar nearby after the game.”

He walked right into it and Y/N lights up, “Let me guess, a few blocks east of here?” She’s absolutely beaming, biting her lip to contain her smile and while I know where she’s going with this, I can’t help grinning a little at her laughter. It’s all over her face and it’s fucking adorable. Her eyes are glittering and her nose is slightly crinkled from trying to stifle the giggle bursting through her lips.

“Y-yeah…” Steve continues with trepidation.

“Well, Stevie, I’m sure you’ll do real well in Boystown,” she teases, “but please, just remember that we’re all sharing a room. Same goes for you Sam,” she turns fixing him with a sharp look, “I don’t want to hear you sneaking that bartender into the room in the middle of the night.”

The laughter bursts out of me like a tidal wave. Sam raises his hands in mock innocence. “Hey, a pretty girl gives me her number, I’m not gonna just throw it away.”

I can’t stop laughing at Steve. He’s never heard Y/N talk about sex, and he’s completely stunned. Apparently she’s really embracing this guy’s day thing and taking her chance to get her shit-talking in, having noticed his tongue-tied condition.

“I know it’s been a real long while, grampa” she sputters between her giggles, “but be sure to wrap it before you tap it.”

I’m pretty sure Steve is about to explode, when she reaches into her purse and holds a condom out towards him, raising one taunting eyebrow. His face is bright red. Steve Rogers, Mr. Language, had thought Y/N was so sweet and delicate that he clearly doesn’t know how to handle her talking like this and it’s the funniest shit I’ve seen since we left New York.

She’s still smirking at having caught Steve out when he recovers himself and fires back, “I’ll bet you this 1927 wheat penny that I can pull more numbers than you by the end of the game.” He’s grinning, holding up his stupid prized penny opposite Y/N’s condom and this time it’s Y/N whose jaw drops. Again I’m caught in a fit of laughter while Sam whoops his approval.

Y/N laughs shaking her head, “I’d be an idiot to take that bet!”

* * *

By the time we leave, Y/N is giggling and a little tipsy. She’s bubbling and bouncing around the stadium, calling another car to take us home. She’s definitely had as much fun as the rest of us and I yank her closer to me by her upper arm when she almost runs into a security guard. This time I keep my mouth shut, and she doesn’t push me away.

I’m shocked when she leans into me a little and slips her hand into mine while chatting away with Steve about his stupid coin collection as we make our way outside. This topic holds less interest to me than usual, even if that damn penny is worth $300, I’m too wrapped up in how soft Y/N’s skin feels, and so warm. The skin on her shoulders and her nose and her smiling cheeks is pink with sunburn and… Why the fuck do I keep staring at her like this?

* * *


	4. Chicago (cont.)

After the baseball game, and a full day of driving and roller coasters before that, everyone’s more than happy to spend the night stretching out around the hotel room. While we might be enjoying a night in, Y/N insists that guy’s day must continue, if even just quietly. She made sure we stopped on the way home from the game for drinks and demanded that we pick a line-up of terrible, aggressive, mostly plotless movies while she ordered a pizza. Well several pizzas. She knows Sam can really pack it away.

Today I honestly can’t remember why she drives me so crazy all the time. Today she’s fucking perfect. Who the hell would be ok with burning in the sun all day at a baseball game and then coming back to beer, pizza, and shitty action movies with the three of us? We’re more than a handful but she’s relaxed and it seems easy to her, but I know she’s going out of her way at every turn. I can’t figure out exactly when I started thinking about her like this but it’s a problem. A big fucking problem.

“Ok, I’m off to go get the pizza,” she announces, spinning playfully as she slips her purse over her head and shoulder. “Stay out of trouble.” She grins and winks in our direction and I don’t think it’s for me, really, but I jump up anyway.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, s’ok. You stay with the guys and have fun.” Her voice is soft but light. “I got it.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I’m incapable of speaking without pissing her off and usually that’s fine and even amusing, but I’m really trying to help this time. For the second time today I fuck up a perfectly good opportunity when my mouth runs faster than my brain.

“Yeah? _You’re_ going to carry 4 boxes of pizza 6 blocks by yourself in a strange city in the dark?” I know I’m in trouble before I even finish but all I can do is play it off as banter and hope it doesn’t hit her too sharply.

No such luck. I can practically hear Steve’s mom-voice in my head, while he glares at me, silently scolding me for being so condescending. She turns her head to me slowly, unhindered disgust in her eyes and the hard set of her jaw.

“Why do you _do_ this shit?” she spits at me, “You could have just said ‘Y/N, that’s a lot to carry, let me come help you.’” She’s turning away from me still talking at me, “ But no! Instead you have to insult me so that even if I _wanted_ help, I now have to decline it.” Shit. She turns from me, checking her purse for a room key before mumbling, “You’re insufferable.”

I’ve already got my shoes on but I pause expecting Steve to jump in and offer to go in my place but he doesn’t. Steve always saves me, why the hell…

“Well, come on then!” Y/N is holding the door open staring at me as she nods toward the hall. I wince at the irritation in her voice, but I follow.

* * *

On the way to the pizza shop Y/N walks briskly, checking her phone periodically, I assume for directions. “Are you sure you know where you’re–”

“Listen,” she cuts me off, spinning on her heel. I practically run into her, catching myself just inches from her face and I have to grab onto her to keep from bowling us both over but she doesn’t flinch or back down. I’m smiling a bit because I fucking love that about her, but I’m one hundred percent sure it’s coming off to her as smug and annoying.

“First, I’m a grown ass woman, I can take care of myself. Second, I know this city a hell of a lot better than you. Third, I’ve shown you nothing but an amazing time so far on this trip and haven’t steered you wrong once. While you,” she shoves a pointed finger into my chest “have been a little shit.”

“I-I…,” I’m fucking stammering because she’s right and what the hell is there for me to say?

“Yeah!” she bursts, “Stop. Questioning. Me.” I bite hard into my bottom lip as she pokes my chest while sharply enunciating every word. I know she’s angry and she’s right and I should listen, but she’s so damn sexy when she’s a little heated and a little bossy. How have I not noticed this before? All I can think about is gripping her a little tighter and kissing those perfect soft lips. Hard. And pushing her back against the car beside us…

Her harsh glare pulls me reluctantly back to the present situation and the very real fact that Y/N would undoubtedly murder me if I tried any part of that little daydream, and holy shit this is getting out of hand. I need to get a grip on this… whatever the hell _this_ is.  

God damn it even my silence must have offended her somehow because she’s turning away from me again and slipping out of my fingers. Chewing on my lips nervously, I roll my head in frustration. I just can’t get it right with this one!

I catch up to her again, sliding my hand over the small of her back ready to try to make it up to her but just when I open my mouth she holds up her hand, “Bucky, you had better be about to tell me how much fun you’re having, how nice the weather is, or some other _nice_ thing or so help me I will call Natasha to buy me a flight home tonight!”

Ok, tread lightly. “I… I was going to ask when you were last in Chicago. What you were doing here.” I’m practically holding my breath waiting for her response. Come on. Small talk. Small talk has got to be safe.

“Thank you!” she breathes, “Um, a few months I guess? I came to visit some friends, well one friend in particular. He’s awesome. We went to Boystown, actually. It was so fun!”

We relax into an easy gate as we walk the last few blocks, she’s laughing again telling me about her last trip here, the bars they went to, some speakeasy in another part of town, how her friend dragged her out hungover for margaritas and brunch at some place called Big Star. She jabs my left arm playfully, I can’t believe she’s making a joke about that insignia that I’ve spent years trying to forget. I’m so relieved that she’s talking again and our conversation is easy. She links her arm with mine to pull me faster as we cross a street.

It’s all comfortable and warm again and she keeps her arm in mine but then we round a corner and it's… it’s familiar and I just freeze. My blood runs cold and it feels like every nerve in my brain is firing at once and yet somehow I’m completely numb at the same time. I feel the plates in my left arm shift, and just the sound is enough to shock the memories into place.

I glance to my left and see the alleyway where I used the service elevator to the 28th floor. It sounds like there’s a torrential flood in my ears as I stand still staring at the door. I’m vaguely aware of Y/N standing in front of me.

At first I can hear the frustration in her voice, it cuts through the deafening silence of my memory. “You are without a doubt the moodiest person on earth! What is your goddamn problem?!”

“I… I remember this place.” My eyes drag up the height of the building my breathing picking up with it, the sound of the blood rushing in my ears growing to a deafening roar. It’s strange I was always calm, deadly calm during these missions but when a memory of one is triggered it’s a spiral of panic, followed by hours, sometimes days, of whole mind and body exhaustion. Heavy and deep, like trying to move from under a drenched wool blanket.

“Bucky,” her voice is quiet and worried, “hey, can you hear me?” I realize she’s holding my metal fingers in both of her hands, running smooth soft lines over the grooves where the plates meet. I must have been quiet for a while because I don’t even remember her shifting in front of me or when she stopped sounding so angry. I give a small nod, my eyes darting around the street, the buzzing, rushing in my ears making me extraordinarily aware of every passing stranger, every car that blurs by, I’m fucking spinning.

“Hey, you’re ok. Look at me,” she’s still soft and gentle but when she reaches up, no doubt trying to help, I jump. I can’t think straight, my mind is humming, flashing to the abandoned floor of the building beside me… the metallic click of my rifle seems so real in my mind that I snap and grab her wrist before she can touch me.

A fresh wave of guilt hits me square in the chest when she gasps, wide-eyed at my sudden aggression. I slam my eyes shut, I’m trying to calm down but everything is buzzing until I feel her fingers slide so so softly over mine, still gripping her wrist.

I can hear her voice but I can’t focus on what she’s saying. Not yet. I just keep hearing, “I’m sorry,” and “shh, we’re safe.” She slowly, gently peels my fingers off of her wrist and presses my hand to her chest.

For a moment, I’m mesmerized by her actions when she steps closer and whispers, “It’s okay… just breathe with me, Bucky…” She takes a slow, deliberate breath in, before releasing it just as slowly. I focus on matching her steady rhythm and it helps, the storm clouding my brain slowly subsides.

The thunder in my ears quiets and I’m left with a hollow exhaustion creeping into my bones and more than a little embarrassment that Y/N watched me fall apart like that. But she’s calm and has somehow pulled me to a quiet stoop, far from the offending alleyway that started this whole episode.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” I manage, pulling my hand away from her sheepishly. I’m a fucking assassin, one of the most deadly people in the world and I just fell apart over a random alley and practically mauled her when she tried to help. She could have been half way back with the pizza by now, if I hadn't…

“Stop that,” she hushes me, quiet but firm, “I’m sorry. I blundered on about you being moody like a complete idiot!” If I weren’t so completely raw right now I’d hug the shit out of her, just… hold on to her. She looks so beautiful when she pushes her hair back, even if it’s out of frustration.

“No, it’s fine, I just got… lost for a second… I’m sorry. The pizza…”

“Forget the pizza.” Y/N slips her fingers into mine again, softly, tentatively. “C’mon, I have an idea.” She has one very warm smirk as she digs into her pocket for her phone. “You just need a little perspective…” she trails off searching for a number in her phone. “You text Steve and tell him we’ll be late.”

* * *

Somehow Y/N has dragged me to the heart of the city, skyscrapers soaring above us. It’s well after dark and these buildings have been  closed for hours. I can’t imagine what she’s planning but I’ve learned not push her on it.

She checks her phone again when we approach the glass doors to the enormous glass tower. “Is this… Y/N, I don’t think you can go into Sears Tower at this time of night.”

She laughs softly, squeezing my hand. “Certainly not, old man, because it’s called Willis Tower now.” I roll my eyes at her teasing. “And you can if you know someone who works in it.”

* * *

“Alright sweetie, I’ve got to go,” Y/N’s friend tells us as we step out of the elevator. He lingers and Y/N steps back to give him a warm hug and to thank him. “Have fun, you!” He winks at her before looking deliberately at me.

I can’t help chuckling at his obvious implication and decide that I should play along after all fhe shit I’ve given Y/N on this trip so far. “We will,” I smirk, sliding my hand low over her waist to her lower back, hovering temptingly close to her ass as I harshly press her tight against me. She yelps in surprise and for a moment I’m afraid I’ve overdone it again, but she doesn’t push back, just looks up at me, eyes wide and a little darker than usual.

“Gross. This is my office, okay? No sex in my office! You guys can let yourselves out the same way?”

Without missing a beat she curls her hand into my shirt and turns her face to him with a lazy grin. “Consider it payback for Sophomore year. Tight and Bright party… when you and Kyle… in my dorm?”

“You’re a bitch.” My head snaps to the tall stranger, anger beginning to boil, but his laughter is rich and full and it sets Y/N to giggling under my arm “Good to see you, hun. Call me next time you’re here!” He scolds. Reaching for her and she slips far too easily out of my grasp and into his.

I’m shifting on my feet, uncomfortable, as she hugs him tightly. There’s no reason for my jaw to clench when he stands upright, lifting her off her feet and shaking her in a happy goodbye. But it does. I can feel the muscle in my cheek twitching until he finally puts her down.

“I will.” She promises, turning back to me once the elevator door closes, “You were perking up for a second there, grumps!” She’s teasing me, and god damn it that smirk is so fucking cute. I shake my head in embarrassment and can’t stop smiling back. Damn. I’m in over my head.

“Come on!” She’s tugging me along behind her, fingers tangled with mine. I know I’m setting myself up for disappointment by reading so much in the way she’s holding my hand, the fact that she’s brought _me_ here. She’s like this with everyone, maybe that’s what always gets under my skin, I just can’t fucking read her. One second she’s sleeping in my lap the next she’s sharing a beer with Sam or jumping on Steve’s shoulders.

I like to be in control. Always. That’s why the flashbacks are so jarring. But with her I have no clue what I’m working with and I end up saying stupid shit or doing things I wouldn’t normally do. Or maybe I would and I only notice them when it’s her.

Either way it usually drives me insane in the most infuriating way, but right now… Shit. We’ve made it to a corner office, a wall of windows, and she’s looking up at me waiting for a reaction to the view outside but I’m hardly paying attention. I take a moment to take it all in. The glass wall disappearing below us, higher than the other buildings around us, I can see the ribbons of light lining the streets and stretching out as far as I can see until they disappear. A chaotic array of glimmering orange and white light, but somehow it’s relaxing to see it here where it’s so quiet and dark.

“What are we doing here?” I ask her quietly, squeezing her hand, hoping to soften my words.

It seems to work. She doesn’t let go, and instead leans her head on my shoulder as she speaks. “I thought you could use some perspective.” I can feel her looking at me for a moment, but I keep my eyes focused forward, not wanting to relive the moment on the street, near that familiar alley. 

“Those streets go on forever, Buck. In every direction, with a thousand alleys and 10 buildings for each alley. All of them waiting for us to explore.” She looks forward again. “I don’t know what you saw in that alley, or what you remembered. You don’t have to tell me. But it was just one alley. It didn’t ruin you and the world’s still turning, the city’s still busy as ever. Perspective.”

I nod slightly. She’s right. But I can’t understand how the hell she knows. I’ve never talked to her about this, how does she know what to say, what to do on that street? I’m staring at my feet and don’t notice that she’s moved in front of me, she’s so fucking close. Just an inch away as she leans forward, dipping her head to catch my eye. “I’m sure it was awful but don’t let it ruin today or tomorrow. Don’t let it or them or anyone control you.”

That was it. That was exactly it. It’s like she was in my head, but so softly and sweetly… It was always about control I felt out of control after a memory hit me like that, or a nightmare so I always shut down, at least that I can control. But she’s right. That’s not the only thing I can do.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach forward with my free hand and brush my fingers over her neck, her hair is soft ghosting over the back of my hand. She freezes and her mouth falls open slightly in surprise and I don’t wait another second, pressing my lips gently, tentatively against hers. Goddamn, she’s so soft and warm. Neither of us move for a second but I can feel her breath tingling across my lips.

She still hasn’t moved except to close her eyes, and now my brain has caught up and I’m fucking terrified. What if I misread this? I can’t fucking read her! I never can. What am I doing? And it’s been too long since I moved and now I’m worried that this is weird so I pull away, holding my breath, watching her. Just watching. Please, give me something.

“Bucky,” she breathes, her eye fluttering open. Fuck, I love how that sounds. “W-what… why did you…” Shit.

“I’m sorry,” I cut her off, “We should get back.” I turn immediately making a direct path for the elevator. I just want to get out of here, to hide, but I have a whole elevator ride and a walk back with her and this is unbearable. What have I done? I can’t figure out what she’s thinking, but “why” can’t possibly be a good sign, can it?


	5. The Drive

Steve paces the few steps he can take in the cramped hotel bathroom, holding the phone to his ear, waiting for Natasha to pick up. He’s peeked around the door twice to make sure the others are still asleep and turned on the shower for good measure before she finally answers.

“We have a problem,” he confesses before she can finish her groggy greeting. Steve had a habit of waking up at an ungodly hour.

“What do you mean? They were doing so well…”

“I think Bucky’s moving faster on your timeline than Y/N.” He pauses a moment pinching the bridge of his nose. “He kissed her.”

“What?!” she shrieks, “Alright, Barnes! I didn’t think he’d ever make a move! Maybe he doesn’t need our help after all.”

“Oh, he needs help,” Steve insists, “He’s freaking out.”

“What?! Why? What exactly happened?”

“Bucky’s being stubborn, as usual, and won’t listen.” Steve surmises.

“Well what’s new,” Nat grumbles with no small measure of sarcasm. “How the hell did he screw this up? They went out for a walk alone in the city at night, and said they were going to be late… Why is it a problem that he kissed her? Why isn’t she up to speed?” She’s talking a mile a minute, trying to reason this all out. “You’re going to have to connect the dots for me here, Rogers.”

Steve peers around the corner, checking for the second time to make sure the others are still sleeping. “When they came back Bucky barreled through the door, didn’t say a word and went straight to the gym. Y/N followed him in a minute later out of breath, just glaring at him. He must have outpaced her the entire walk back. He’s such an idiot.” He shakes his head in frustration.

“Well what did Y/N say?”

“Nothing! She won’t talk about it.” He has to pause a minute to keep from shouting. “She just grabbed a beer and plopped down next to Sam. So I went after Bucky.” Steve recounts Bucky’s mostly accurate tale. “I _know_ he just caught her by surprise. Now he’s just stuck in his own head, thinking she rejected him when he didn’t give her a chance to do anything. I have no idea what she’s thinking but he’s only making it worse. Maybe we should leave them alone, Nat.”

“Don’t give up on me now, Steve!” Nat pushes, “You’re not even half way through the trip! I’ll talk to Y/N. You just… don’t let Bucky do anything stupid. More stupid.”

“I’ll try,” he promises, hanging up before climbing into the shower. This was going to be nearly impossible.

* * *

Y/N and I can barely manage to look at each other while we pack up to start the next leg of the trip. The tension is palpable, Steve’s already cornered me about it and Sam keeps giving me sharp looks all morning and stepping in front of Y/N every time I even get close, like he thinks I’m going to hurt her or something. It’s so fucking frustrating and it’s got me so defensive. I’d probably snap at a squirrel if it wandered too close right now.

We’re all noticeably silent after the light and easy day we had yesterday at the game, but it’s a huge relief that no one seems to want to comment on it. I make it to the car first and shove my bag into the trunk, immediately moving for the front seat. I know this is going to be a battle, but there’s no way I can stand being locked in a tight space with Y/N right now. Not after the colossal fuck up that was last night.

* * *

_“Bucky! Wait!” She calls, jogging to catch up. I keep walking, fast, feeling like a complete idiot. We’re on the street now, which helps clear my mind a bit, helps me forget the painful elevator ride. Fuck, I was an idiot. She hardly spoke, just… looked at me. God it was a long trip down. Agony._

_When she finally stopped watching me, it was like she looked purposefully away, her fingers teasingly hovering over her lips. I thought it might be an opening, that maybe… I watched her out of the corner of my eye until she took a quick breath and turned to me talking quickly, like she had to force herself to speak._

_“Why did you do that?”_

_Her voice was soft, it didn’t seem upset… it was light, hopeful even. But I was already so tense, so sure I’d fucked things up that I then… fucked things up._

_“I um… I don’t know, you seemed like you wanted me to.”_

_“I… What?!” Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion before those eyes that were so soft and warm 5 minutes ago narrowed on me, bright with indignation._

_It wasn’t a complete lie, but mostly. I just didn’t know what to say, how to explain any of it and self preservation had kicked in. Afraid something more offensive would tumble out of my mouth I just shrugged which seemed to have the exact effect i was hoping to avoid._

_“I did not look…! I was just trying to help!” the look of disdain curled her lips into a dark frown as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. “This doesn’t have to be a fight, why are you making this so… ugh!” She groaned, god she seemed completely exasperated. Fuck!_

_I couldn’t think of how to recover from this, and it had stormed into our usual acrid arguing. Better to end it now and get back to the hotel. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, “It won’t happen again,” and I immediately pushed out of the elevator, out of the building and out onto the street, taking long, swift strides back to the hotel._

_I heard her calling but I didn’t stop. This was already so humiliating, I couldn’t possibly look at her. I didn’t notice when she got caught at crosswalk that I’d breezed through. It wasn’t until I stormed back into the hotel that I realized how far she’d fallen behind and I felt like a complete jerk. She was furious, and rightfully so. We exchanged only silence and harsh glances the rest of the night, and the morning passed much the same._

* * *

“I’m taking shotgun,” I grumble, sliding into the front seat before it can even turn into a conversation. That doesn’t stop Sam, and for some reason that I can’t understand, Steve, from protesting.

Y/N shoots Steve a confused and questioning glance, her eyebrows knit together, eyeing him as he conspicuously avoids her gaze. He walks casually to the driver’s seat before he finally musters a reply, “I just want someone who has a better idea where we’re going up front.”

I roll my eyes, firm in my position, I’ve already buckled in and started adjusting the vents.

“Okay weirdo,” Y/N drawls, her eyes still narrowed as she ducks into the seat behind me. “Not that Snoring Sam here is much of a navigator. The phone will still tell you where to go. Once you’re on I-90 just go west for a thousand miles.”

“Ha-ha,” he exaggerates a pseudo-laugh.

“No, I’m serious,” she insisted, buckling in and shifting in her seat, “906 miles to be exact.” She passes the phone forward, the map active and ready. I’m in a mood, though, so I ignore it, shifting so my shoulder is resting against the door and I glance at the phone with one raised brow. 

“Oh my _god_!” she scoffs and throws it in my lap. Steve punches my arm and I’m not sure if he’s annoyed that I’m a poor navigator or because I’m ignoring Y/N. He was oddly pushy about her when I told him everything last night.

“Oh this is some bullshit!” Sam complains, climbing into the seat behind Steve, no longer enjoying the luxury of all the legroom the front seat offers. “I still control the iPod.”

“Settle down, Tiny Wings,” I seriously do not give a shit that he’s shaking his head in anger at that nickname. I love it, in fact. “You’ve had the front seat for two stops now.”

“You know what, this seat is just fine. I have a much better angle for when I fuckin kill you, man!” he flicks a coaster from the hotel at my neck and I crumple it in my hand, turning to throw it at him.

“Okay, enough!” Steve interrupts.

I’ve turned to look at Sam while taunting him when Y/N rolls her eyes and leans over, curling one foot up behind her knees.

My jaw clenches and a turn forward in my seat with a quiet huff when she casually reaches for his arm, lifting it out of her way, “Up!” she insists, groggily. It’s early, and she clearly intends to sleep most of this trip, but I hadn’t expected her to curl up against Sam just as comfortably as she did me.

I also don’t expect that to bother me so much, but I’m fucking burning, so I reach below me, pulling the lever to adjust the seat position and it slams backward as far as it will go on the track. Y/N shouts behind me. “Ow!!! Bucky, what the hell?!” 

I really hadn’t meant to push it back _that_ far, but now I’m annoyed and all of the irritant is coming from the back seat. “Move your seat up!” she insists and Sam scoffs at that.

“Why? You’re not using the leg room anyway, all cuddled up like that,” I can see her head snap back in surprise at my bitter words. Frankly, I’m surprised. Where the hell did that come from? I sound so jealous, shit. 

She shifts her position, intentionally kneeing the back of my seat. “ _Move!_ ” She insists, slamming her palms into the seat in frustration.

“Just go back to sleep, princess,” I’m just digging my fucking grave here, but I can’t figure out how to change course now.

“Alright! Everyone out!” Steve shouts, jumping out of the car himself, slamming the door behind him.

“Oh _now_ you’ve done it,” Sam gripes, flicking me in the ear and I’m about to lose it, spinning instantly in my seat.

“Out!” Steve barks again.

We all clamber out, moaning and huffing our annoyance as Steve takes his patented Captain posture: slight scowl, standing tall, hands on hips, he points to me first, “Buck, you’re driving,”

“What?!” I begin to protest but he doesn’t even pause long enough to discuss it. He’s definitely in Captain mode and there’s no arguing or reasoning with him when he’s like this.

“Y/N, front seat. Sam, scoot over, you’re behind her.”

“I am not driving with her in the front!” I protest, although the alternative is Sam, which is never going to happen, or Steve, which leaves Y/N in the back with Sam again. I dislike that prospect the most. This whole situation is absolute shit. I hate this car, and I’m beginning to hate the idea of this whole trip again.

“Yes you are, and you’re all going to stop acting like 3 year olds!” He isn’t shouting, but his voice is loud and he isn’t fuckin around. “Now get in the car.”

Steve tosses me the keys so I have no choice but to catch them and climb behind the wheel. Y/N makes no protests, enjoying the freedom of the front seat, though graciously sliding it forward as far as is comfortable to make room for Sam behind her.

Once we got on the road it wasn’t so bad. Y/N quieted down and fell asleep, curled against the window. Sam eventually stopped humming to his music, thank god, and Steve settled to simply nudging my seat when I got too snippy. We had a long drive ahead but had settled into a relative peace in our new seating assignments. Steve’s such a tyrant. Punk.

* * *

Nat picks up on the first ring when Y/N calls. She’d texted her friend a casual “call me next time you stop,” and is now eager to get a read on the apparently crumbling situation she’d initiated.

“Hey how’s the trip! Everyone still breathing?” Nat tries.

“Barely,” Y/N’s mumbles in reply.

“You sound tense, what’s going on?” Nat asks, already knowing the answer from Steve.

Y/N paces the aisles of gas station junk food, peering outside to make sure the boys are still standing by the car.

“Just Bucky being Bucky.”

“Well is there a chance you’re also just being you and pushing his buttons?”

“I am _now_ ,” she admits, “but only because he’s being a complete jerk.”

“Okay start at the top. What set you two off this time?”

Y/N stands on her toes, peering over the display again to double check the guys aren’t coming inside. “Nat, he kissed me!”

Natasha’s silent for a long moment, intentionally so, forcing Y/N to think back on her words, remember the kiss. Sweet and… personal in that moment in the quiet dark…

“So what’s the problem, Y/N? He’s cute.” Nat presses, finally. “Actually, more than cute. You should see him and Steve after a workout! Sometimes this compound life is just cruelty…”

“No, no. The kiss wasn’t the problem.” _Got her_ , Nat smirks triumphantly into the receiver. “He kissed me and then bolted! He said _I_ looked like I wanted him to kiss me and then he just ran off! I mean, I was literally jogging through the streets of Chicago just to catch up!”

Nat rolls her eyes, throwing her head back in frustration. _Bucky, you complete idiot._

“I mean, what the fuck?!” Y/N continues to vent, “How does someone turn on a dime like that?! It’s mystifying. Such an ass.”

She’s getting riled, Nat knows she needs to play this carefully… “Are his lips as soft as they look? God, those damn super soldiers, I bet he–”

“Natasha! Are you even listening to me?”

“Listening to you find excuses not to go after the gorgeous man who just made a move on you? The one you’re always catching yourself staring at? Yeah I heard you.”

“I… What?! No I don’t!”

“Did you like it?” Nat only smirks as Y/N stammers on the other end of the line while paying for her snacks. “When he kissed you, yes or no, it’s that simple.”

“Yeah, but–”

“Then do something about it! Barnes is being a little teenage boy right now because he probably surprised himself as much as he surprised you!” _Thank you Steve, for that tidbit,_ Nat mutters to herself before continuing. “And he’s worried he made the wrong move so he’s backing off.”

“I guess… Maybe…” Y/N begins walking slowly back to the car, chewing on a red vine.

“Well if it wasn’t the wrong move, maybe it’s your turn to make a play.”

Chewing on Natasha’s words for a moment, Y/N bites at her lip. She watches Bucky leaning on the car, twisting to stretch the muscles in his back and finds herself for the first time noticing how broad his shoulders really are, how the thick muscle rolls under the fabric of his shirt. He pushes his hair back from his face, squinting against the bright sun and her mind wanders, wondering what it would be like to twist her fingers in that hair if he ever kissed her again.

“Yeah, maybe…” she trails off as she approaches the car. “I gotta go.”

* * *

Just a few more hours according to the map on Y/N’s phone. It’s been a rough morning, but I’m feeling better now, I think we all are. The fresh air feels good, and it’s warm and quiet out here. Somewhere in South Dakota, I guess. It’s been pretty flat and sparse for hours now. Not much to look at. Except her.

On the drive my eyes kept darting over to her, stealing glances, she looked so soft and fuck, I just want to go back to 2 days ago when she was lying next to me and it was okay to touch her, to hold her hand or call her doll. But that thought’s only possible when she’s sleeping.

When she’s awake she’s hostile, shifting away from me, scowling when I adjust the air conditioning for her even though she’s using her pillow as a shield from the vents. She’s so angry and I don’t know what to do so I just keep my damn mouth shut and drive.

We stopped for gas 10 minutes ago and she’s been taking an unusually long time inside, but it feels good to stretch for a minute. And to get away from Sam. God, he and Steve never stop talking.

She finally makes it back to the car, arms brimming with more snacks. “Can we switch back to our old seats?” she whines and I push off the car, turning to look at her, surprised and confused. “Bucky’s a much better pillow than the window.”

She must have seen the shock on my face, my eyebrow shot halfway up my forehead, I’m sure of it. The smirk that pulled across her face was so unexpected, and I definitely wasn’t expecting her to keep her eyes locked on mine the whole time she spoke. Her stare never falters when she laughs as Sam practically climbs over the hood of the car with a triumphant “Hell yeah!” thrilled to have shotgun again.

I catch my lip between my teeth and shake my head, biting back my own grin as we slide into the car. She doesn’t waste any time, curling her feet behind her knees and sprawling over the whole seat. I can’t understand what’s changed or why, but I’m utterly shocked when it’s her shoulder that nudges the side of my leg as her head falls into my lap. She shifts slightly, trying to get comfortable, coiling like a kitten next to me.

Once again she notices my frozen surprise and rolls her eyes. Maybe it’s just my own wishful thinking but I think it’s playful and not annoyed. She reaches up for my hand that was still hovering awkwardly above her, unsure where to rest. Without a word, or a second thought, she presses my hand to the soft curve of her waist before reaching back up to her own face, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Oh my god, Buck, would you relax?” she’s teasing me again and I have no fucking clue what I did to undo whatever part of yesterday she was most upset about. “I’m starting to think you’re all talk. If you can’t even handle a cuddle…”

“I can handle it, sweetheart,” I warn, quiet and low my glance darting to Sam and Steve up front, but they’re busy arguing over the music.

She pauses for a minute, like she’s not sure she wants to say what comes next, swirling circles on my knee with the tip of her fingernail. “You’re not gonna run off on me again?” That stings…  “Not gonna jump out of a moving car if I fall asleep on you?”

“No, but if I have to hear Trouble Man one more time I’m stealing that iPod.” she starts laughing and it’s the most comforting sound I’ve heard all day. Relief. “And I’m told I’ll be ‘thrown out of the damn car’? Was that it Sam?”

“You bet your ass, Tin Can!”

“You’ve got to come up with better nicknames, Sammie.”

“Hey! Don’t you turn on me just because he bats those big blue eyes at you,” Sam warns, making her giggle.

“Is this a lesson from experience? Is that how grandpa Steve got you to come out of retirement?”

“Ooo! You’re a cold woman! You better go to sleep before that mouth gets you both thrown out!”

* * *

An hour later, Y/N had curled around, face buried in Bucky’s shirt, her arm draped over his lap, hooking around his waist. He had one hand where she’d placed it on her hip, the other dipping into her hair lazily as he watched the dark trees and odd rock formations pass by the window. Steve snapped a picture while at a stoplight and sent it off to Nat along with a text: _Your girl works fast._


	6. Mount Rushmore

I woke early this morning and made my way to the kitchen, Steve was already up, wolfing down a protein bar and preparing for a run. Not quite ready for conversation and definitely not interested in a run on my first vacation in years, I slipped silently past him onto the elevated deck that wrapped around much of the cabin Y/N had managed to find and rent for us. I have to admit after 14 hours of driving yesterday alone, most of those hours contentious and stressful, this cabin with plenty of room for the four of us to spread out is a much-needed reprieve.

As much as I hate to admit it, Nat knew exactly what she was doing convincing Y/N to map out this trip. She knows exactly how far is too far a drive for one day, when we all need space or when it’s okay to tough it out and share a small hotel. Just now the space and the quiet is a welcome change from the hot, overcrowded amusement park or the busy city streets.

I check my watch and know the sun must be coming up, but looking out from the roughly hewn pine railing, all I see are tall, dark evergreens covering the rippling hills in front of me. I can’t even see another house from here. The morning air is cold on the back of my neck since I’ve tied my hair to calm it, so I flip my hood up over my head and turn with a start when I hear her soft voice. “It’ll warm up soon.”

She’s holding a steaming mug of coffee in both hands, a thick wool blanket over her legs. Her voice is soft but a little coarse, like she’s just woken up, and when she pushes the mess of tangled hair back from her shoulder, my first thought is how badly I just want to kiss that shivering skin between her neck and her shoulder, how I want to breathe in the soft clean scent of her hair.

I realize I’m just staring at her, completely ignoring her attempt at small talk when she lifts her blanket open towards me and questions me simply with just a word, “Cold?”

There’s not one thing that could stop me from sliding onto the seat beside her. I still have no fucking clue how we recovered from Chicago but damn, I’m not going to question it.

I’m dumbfounded when she turns toward me on the bench, lifting her legs over mine to plant her feet on the armrest beside me. Her bare legs are hovering over mine as she looks to her left out at the thick forest while taking a tentative sip of her coffee. This time I’m done hesitating, done with awkward uncertainty, so I try my best to appear and honestly _be_ calm as I rest my left arm over her legs, my hand cupping her knee over the blanket to keep from slipping into her lap. I tuck her bare feet under the blanket before draping my other arm over her shins.

I can’t help stealing a glance at her to make sure she isn’t shrinking from my casual proximity, but she just smiles and wriggles her toes. Fuck. Why can’t it always be this comfortable, this easy.

I didn’t even notice I was chewing on my lip, just soaking in that soft, groggy smile until her brow furrows, looking slightly worried. “Did you sleep ok?” she asks, she must think I’m delusional by my utter lack of response to her so far this morning.

“Yeah, really well,” I assure her squeezing her knee softly. “It’s so quiet here.”

“Mhmm,” she hums, “I like it, the quiet. But I know sometimes you city boys find it a little unnerving.”

She’s grinning a teasing little smile that has me shaking my head in mock irritation. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever been camping?” I throw back at her, “I think you’re forgetting that Steve and I were in this little event once where we spent months camping out in dense European forests. What was it?” She’s giggling as she nudges my shoulder with her own, but I’m not giving up that easy, “No, hold on, it’ll come to me. It was a really big war…”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she smirks.

“You better watch it, I’m a decorated veteran!”

“Oh excuse, me!” she feigns shocked innocence, “I sometimes forget you’re a thousand years old.”

“Now that’s just rude,” I continue to tease her because the smile that’s dancing at her eyes is like a fucking magnet, “I’m only a hundred.”

She scoffs and laughs so hard, a splash of coffee sloshes out of her mug. I find myself laughing with her. “Well you don’t exactly look one hundred,” she manages between her laughter, “It’s hardly my fault you’re impossibly handsome…” her voice trails off and her eyes grow wide as she realizes what she’s saying. I’m not about to help her out, I just watch her with what I can only imagine to be a smug grin. I catch my lip between my teeth to hold back my own laughter.

“You and Steve,” she sputters quickly, trying to recover, “with your stupid serum, impossibly ageless.”

“That’s not what you said,” I taunt, wrapping my arms around her knees and hugging them to my chest to keep her from squirming away to safety.

“You’re unbearable,” she finally concedes, pushing her hair off of her face and settling her coffee in her hands as she resigns herself back to the comfortable ease we held a moment earlier.

She jumps, though, spilling half her coffee when the loud snarl of a motorcycle rips through the quiet of the forest. “What the _fuck_?!” she shouts in frustration, leaning forward to hold the still dripping mug away from her body, “Who the hell is that??”

I grin and take her cup, pulling the now soaking blanket to the side and reaching for her hand to help pull her up. I already know _exactly_ who’s returned with a motorcycle. It’s early August in South Dakota, hundreds of thousands of motorcycles would be swarming through this area for the next two weeks for the Sturgis motorcycle rally. The only real question was whether Steve had bought it or convinced someone to lend Captain America their bike for the day.

* * *

The four of us finally made it outside, but no further, standing between the car and the bike Steve had snagged for the day. Sam’s leaning on the car, arms crossed over his chest. “No way I’m riding all the way there with these two,” he insists. God he’s _impossible_.

“Sam, c’mon it’s less than an hour,” Steve pleads, hand still clinging to the handlebar of the motorcycle he’d somehow sweet talked his way into keeping for the afternoon. “This thing _needs_ to be driven! It would be a crime to leave it here and drive this boring old thing up those winding roads,” he gestures towards the car that’s carried us all the way from New York.

“Each way!” Sam shakes his head defiantly, “I can’t take it. Once second they’re trying to kill each other the next he looks like he’s trying to…” he shakes his head in frustration, struggling for words, “they’re like koalas or some shit hanging on each other. I’m done.”

“Oooh! That’s cute!” Y/N squeals turning to me with exaggerated enthusiasm, slipping her hands around my arm, hanging on me slightly. Looking down at her, her wide grin and big happy eyes are too fucking adorable, and it’s just all the better that it’s at Sam’s expense. “Bucky, am I a Koala?”

She’s unbelievable, so fucking annoying, but for once she’s not pushing _my_ buttons. I have no idea how to answer her, but I don’t really have to before Sam scoffs loudly, mumbling an irritated “oh my god” under his breath.

“I’ll drive it,” I volunteer, not breaking eye contact with Y/N but raising an eyebrow, daring her to join in. She tilts her head slowly, her eyes narrowing to judge if I’m serious, but her smile never falters, and that’s all I need. “I’ll take it up to the park and you can drive it back to wherever it belongs on the way down, Steve. And Sam’ll just have to get over it.”

Sam only glares at me shaking his head, but Steve jumps at the deal, “Fine. Sam this is the best offer you’re going to get, so get in the car.”

I can’t help grinning as Steve tossed me the keys. My fingers ghost over the sleek tank at the center and I waste no time, gripping the handles and swinging onto the seat easily. I take a minute to appreciate the feel of the bike, how the handlebar falls under my reach, the heavy tilt of the strong machine as a kick back the stand and crank it to life.

Steve and Sam are already in the car but Y/N hasn’t moved. I can feel her eyes on me, there’s an overwhelming urge to make a smartass remark about it, but I want her to stay there like that, or better yet…

“What the hell kind of koala are you?” I ask nodding to the space behind me on the motorcycle. Her eyes widen, before the look of surprise is replaced with an excited grin that lights up her face. Without a word she clambers on behind me, her hands holding my shoulders for support as she maneuvers into her seat.

It takes everything in me not to close my eyes and lean my head back when her hands slip around my waist and she presses her body flush against my back. I can feel her chin on my shoulder and her soft breath in puffs on my ear, as she peers forward, almost as eager as I am. When she scoots forward and I feel the inside of her thighs graze the outside of mine, I have to gun it to keep focused. The rear tire fishtails on the gravel driveway and I smile at the power in my hands. I’m so ready to wind up these roads with Y/N clutching onto my back.

“Be careful, Buck,” Steve warns sternly, and I can see Sam leaning forward in the passenger seat glaring daggers at me.

* * *

The ride up the twisting highway through the Black Hills was as thrilling and freeing as I’d imagined. Y/N clung tightly to me. I felt her sharp breaths in when we zipped through narrow tunnels or slipped around sharp turns, her fingers digging tighter into me. I was disappointed when we finally rounded the corner and those enormous ancient faces stared out at us, knowing it was the end of the ride.

Mount Rushmore is definitely an impressive sight, the enormity is startling and the detail is unexpected, but I’d rather have Y/N warm and insistent pressing against me. And frankly, these statues get old fast, but Steve is like a kid in a candy store. He’s reading every damn plaque, marveling at every corner of the monument and I’m bored out of my mind.

“We’re doing the audio tour,” he informs us firmly, but for once Sam, Y/N and I are on the same page and that is just not going to happen. “Oh come on! We’re doing this,” Steve insists again.

“Steve, you can do the tour, I’m good, I’ll go… sit in the sun somewhere,” Y/N stumbles, looking for any reason to get out of this torture. What is it with him and museums? We practically are museums, but he loves this shit. A guided tour of a statue? No.

I have absolutely no will to agree to Steve’s tour when Y/N turns to me biting her lips to hold back a wicked grin, “Up for an adventure?”

“If you can actually deliver an adventure,” I tease, but I’m only half joking. With my line of work there’s not much that feels adventurous anymore.

Y/N only smiles confidently, taking my hand and pulling me away. I fucking love this. “We’ll be by that first little lake we passed on the way up here,” she tells Steve as she walks away.

I’m following at a quick pace and Steve is left stumbling for words when Sam turns to join us. “Sam!” he shouts, sounding desperate, “C’mon! You guys can’t leave me here!”

“Tweetie-bird your grandpa’s calling,” Y/N teases, “he might break a hip or something, someone should look out for him.”

Sam groans, turning back to join Steve after shouting a vigorous “I hate you two!” as we head back to the parking lot.

* * *

It’s odd the way these stone structures form, like enormous clay balls dropped in our path. I’ve nearly missed our turn-out, staring at the curiously jutting pinnacles as Y/N’s arm extends before me pointing for the lake she’d described.

I turn off at the lake that she indicated, and am again disappointed when I feel her fingers trail over my back as she slides away from me off the motorcycle. The disappointment quickly vanishes under the intensity of her excitement as she grabs my hand and pulls me, not down the trail, but along the road, over the small bridge that spans the lake.

I’m more than a little confused when she bounds over a few enormous boulders, making her way higher and higher up the side of the small cliff. There are picnic tables and nice little inlets around the lake where people are clearly _supposed_ to be, and then there’s Y/N, clambering her way over the water. She’s climbing easily over the strangely smooth boulders, they look alien but she seems at home, easy seeking higher purchase glancing at the water casually over her shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask her. I can feel the confusion etched across my face in a scowl.

She pauses only a moment to turn back to me, flashing me such a mischievous smile that there’s no way I can leave her by herself to do whatever the hell she’s doing. She finally stops, inching closer to the edge while peering down at the water. This simple action makes me jump forward, grabbing her wrist protectively. I hadn’t even thought about what I was doing, grabbing her like that, but she looks down at my hand wrapped around her wrist with a startled look then smirking, drags her eyes up to mine. I let her go, reluctantly.

“You’re so jumpy,” she taunts, taking a few steps back towards safety. “No wonder you haven’t had a proper adventure in decades…” I’m utterly shocked when she turns away from me and lifts her tank top over her head. It’s completely involuntary, but my tongue darts across my lips as I take in the soft curve of her waist, and the dance of her smooth skin as she bends to slide her shorts down her legs. “You never take any risks.”

I’m sure she can hear my pulse pounding in my ears. Fuck, I’m sure the people 30 feet below and across the lake can hear it, it’s such a thundering force in my own ears. I haven’t moved, just staring at her as she leans sideways, slipping her tennis shoes off.

I finally snap out of it when she throws a sock at my face with a grin. “Would you relax? We’ve only just made it safely to cuddling, I’m not trying to jump you on top of a cliff right now.”

She’s laughing again and I force myself to smile, shaking my head ruefully, “Not right now, huh?” I tease, letting the implication of ‘later’ linger unsaid.

“Oh! There’s a little fun in you after all!” she’s relentless, trying to get me to relax, but I’m still impossibly tense for so many reasons. She’s so distracting like this, and I don’t know who the hell can see her or what the fuck she’s thinking…

“C’mon!” she insists, gesturing towards me, urging me to follow her lead. When I hesitate she shrugs, “Suit yourself,” and before I can react she takes off running over the edge. I’m on my feet immediately, my head pulsing with panic and shock until I register her screams as excitement and recognize giggling as she falls. I’ve made it to the edge in time to see her plunge into the water, and to see Sam and Steve running at full speed from the parking lot. Shit. They’re going to kill me.

I take a deep breath to calm the adrenaline still pulsing through my body, making me jittery and frantic, my jaw clenched tight. My eyes dart back to the water, locked on the swirling ring of bubbles where she went in. Quickly tossing my shirt away and kicking off my shoes, I leap in after her when I see her head pop up and her hand sweep over her head, pushing back a curtain of drenched hair.

The actual falling takes a second longer than I thought it would, long enough for me to realize how stupid this was. I have no idea how deep the water is and there is going to be no protection if I haven’t jumped far enough from this wall of rock. I’m hitting the water before I can give it another thought.

The water’s freezing and for a minute after I resurface it takes my breath away. Then I hear Y/N giggling and I’m furious. What the fuck was she thinking?! I spin in the water to see her dripping, laughing face only long enough to put both hands on top of her head and push her easily back under.

She ducks deeper out of my reach and springs back up a few feet away, laughing at my bad temper. “Would you calm down,” she presses, swimming closer, “I’ve been here before, you know. Check my atlas.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m fun!” She insists, and before I can figure out what she’s doing she’s wrapped her legs around my right arm and torso pinning my arm to my side as she shifts, forcing me underwater this time. Instead of fighting her off I reach around with my free hand and hold her tight against my body, my cheek flush against the cold skin of her stomach as I roll, dragging her under with me. Her playful scream might be my new favorite thing.

When she lets me go I do the same and we both break the surface sputtering and laughing. She holds onto my metal arm for a second before pushing away for shore. “That thing works under water?!” she teases, “Amazing! HYDRA could have made millions in waterproofing cell phones if they were as good at world domination as Apple.”

I pull myself up on a long flat rock then reach for her, dragging her out of the water behind me. “I like my iPhone,” I defend, I can’t help my eyes trailing a bead of water over her skin, sliding down her neck and slowing on the hill of her breast, the droplet glinting in the warm sunlight.

“Yeah because you don’t know how to use it, Mr. What’s-An-Emoji.”

I roll my eyes just as Sam approaches, storming down the path with a fistful of fabric. He throws Y/N’s clothes at her, she stumbles back with the force. “What the fuck?!” He bellows, glaring between us, but mostly at her before tossing my shirt and shoes to me. “You two think you’re hilarious. Let’s go!” He turns back up the trail, muttering about how fucking irresponsible we are.

She just laughs, slipping her clothes over her wet body, the fabric clinging to her skin. I know I’m staring, but I really don’t care. This doesn’t even seem real, who the hell is this side of her that has me jumping off cliffs like a goddamn kid? She notices though, nudging me with her shoulder as she walks past me, following the path around the lake toward the parking lot.

I bristle watching her bound ahead, placing her hands on Sam’s shoulders and pleading in his ear, “Sammie! Don’t be a grouch!” I know I have no right to be irritated, but it drives me insane when she grabs on him, even just playfully. When he brushes her off, she slows down, falling into stride at my side, slipping her arm in mine. “I’d jump in again if you want to go with us, Sam?”

“No one is jumping off that damn cliff again, you fucking morons!” Sam grumbles continuing up the trail. “Someone should throw you in for being so reckless.”

Sam’s hint hits me like a bullet and I turn to her with a broad grin, swooping one arm behind her back and the other under her knees. She squeals, clawing at my shoulders as I move toward the edge of the water. I’m holding her teasingly over the edge as her fingertips dig into my cold damp skin, desperate to stay on land this time, now that she’s dressed.

“Bucky, don’t you dare!”

My smirk grows as I move to pull her back until I feel a harsh shove on my shoulders, hurtling us both forward into the water. Apparently after a full day of teasing, the temptation was too goddamn much for Sam.

Y/N crawls out of the water like a drowning cat, hair sopping and sticking to her face and neck. I can tell from the frantic way she claws her way out and reaches so quickly for her pocket that this game is through. She immediately removes her phone with a groan, a loud and guttural fury that erupts from her lips before she launches herself at Sam at a full run. Her feet are sloshing, her soaking tennis shoes gush water with every step until she leaps onto his back, soaking him with icy water dripping off her body onto his.

He shrinks from under her assault, as she shouts a string of angry profanities about her now ruined phone. Part of me wants to laugh at the sight of Sam shocked and ducking away from the icy sopping rage attached to his back, but the larger part of me is furious. Of fucking course Sam would ruin the perfect goddamn day I’ve had with her in a matter of seconds. Unbelievable.


	7. The Grand Tetons

As we climb back to the car, Y/N has slipped off of Sam’s shoulders and shoved past him, nearly running up the trail, farther away from Sam. And from me. When we make it to the top of the trail and the edge of the parking lot, Steve looks to me with a shocked and unsure shrug, lifting his hands up in question. She barely speaks to anyone, only muttering a disgruntled, “Trunk, please” to Steve.

Once we’ve changed into dry clothes, Y/N tosses her now useless phone haphazardly into the trunk and grabs for her dated Atlas before slipping into the car without a word. She doesn’t move closer to me, she doesn’t look up from her Atlas. Goddamn it. She’s so upset. “Go left,” she instructs with a heavy sigh as she flips through the pages until she finds the map for South Dakota. She traces over an already marked road until it reaches the end of the page, before moving quickly over to Wyoming.

“You sure that thing’s still useable?” I joke, trying anything to cool her anger, “I mean, this thing looks pretty old.” She snaps the book closed just as I begin lifting a few torn and heavy pages. Apparently I’ve only fanned the flames.

“Not nearly as old as _you!_ ”

She must have noticed how my head snapped back at her harsh words. My eyes are wide and she’s immediately chewing the inside of her lip.

“Whoo!” Sam whoops from the front seat, “Damn, Robocop, she is not having it from you tod–”

“Shut up, Sam!” she fires at him, snatching the ipod before he can even react. “It’s _you_ that should be worried.”

I don’t even try to suppress my snort at the way she snapped at Sam. Normally that fucking mouth is so damn irritating, but when she’s pushing Sam’s buttons instead of mine, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Even Steve’s warning glare in the rearview mirror doesn’t reach me when Y/N leans her back against my side, tucking comfortably under my arm.

“What should we listen to?” she asks me quietly, turning slightly so those big warm eyes meet mine, soft with her wordless apology. She doesn’t wait for a reply, only handing me the ipod and turning back to pull open her Atlas again. This thing she guards so fiercely, holds so tightly…

Opening to the first page, she taps at a small, neat grid in the corner. “It’s color coded,” she explains, “Every trip is a different color.” She flips forward a few pages, trailing a light blue path through Connecticut, another page traces a red line into Florida, one green through Illinois. “If I find a road I’ve never taken before, I trace it in that trip’s color.”

The book of maps is somehow so distinctly her. The neat, orderly colors tracking erratic webs across the pages, The pages are worn but with care and affection, not from misuse or age. Well loved maps of long-known roads etched anew by fresh color and bright new patterns of adventure. Nothing could be more Y/N.

* * *

Steve leaned against the car with his arms folded across his chest, watching as the counter on the gas pump climbed higher and higher. He allowed a small smile to pull across his lips as he heard Y/N’s laughter walking away from him beside his best friend into the store.

“What the hell is he doing, man?” Sam inquired in a dark, irritated tone, tossing an empty bottle of pop into the trash can beside the gas pump. “I don’t like this.”

“Leave them alone, Sam,” Steve sighed. “They’re having fun. You should try it.”

“Having fun?!” Sam scoffed, turning back to as Steve replaced the gas nozzle. “They bring out the worst in each other! When they’re not fighting, they talk each other into jumping off of cliffs.”

“I think you’ll recall that she jumped first,” Steve insisted, a mildly amused warning in his tone.

“I don’t give a shit, man. I don’t like it.”

“Well, it’s not up to you, buddy” Steve huffed, climbing back into the driver’s seat as Bucky and Y/N walked back toward the car.

Sam dug in his pocket for his phone, swiping through the list of contacts. “…girl has lost her damn mind,” he mumbled as he started typing out a text, “…just need to set her up with someone…”

“What?” Steve snapped, his gaze locking on Sam instantly. “What are you doing?”

“Done!” Sam tossed his phone onto the dash with a triumphant grin just as Y/N slid into the car. “Just invited a friend to meet up with us in a few days,” he winked nodding toward her. “He’s a good guy.”

Steve could only shake his head in frustrated disbelief, muttering under his breath while guiding the car back onto the highway. “Nat’s going to kill you.”

* * *

It felt like we’d driven for hours, looking at nothing but a sea of dirt and tumbleweeds, more antelope than people. Sam had been moaning that we must have missed a turn when Y/N quickly snapped that he’d soon be eating his words as well as his teeth if she didn’t get a new phone soon. She was half joking, but it worked to stop his complaining. I don’t get why threats don’t shut him up when I offer them.

It isn’t until Steve, Captain Language, Rogers swears that we all snap out of our lingering fight.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles, ducking his head to peer out of the front windshield better. I don’t fucking know how but Y/N’s smile radiates through her whole body. She joltes up, gripping my knee excitedly as she pushes herself up to get a better look.

“This is my favorite part,” she hums, ducking low, like Steve, to see, and damn is she right. The Tetons are breathtaking. After miles of flat and dry open land, enormous granite peaks erupt from the earth like stony sentinels. I’ve never seen anything like it, sharp and jagged fingers driving up into the sky, harsh and menacing.

The closer we drove, the smaller we seem, the more excited she becomes. We finally make it to the base of the mountains and load up on camping gear. If I’d known Y/N was going to take my joke about camping so seriously, I never would have said it. I don’t like camping.

* * *

I hate camping. There’s absolutely nothing to do, and when one maybe more of your camping partners hates you, it’s hard to be bothered to keep conversation going. So while Y/N is in the tent changing into warm pajamas, I’m just poking at the fire mindlessly.

Eventually Sam gives in first, drawing slowly to his feet, groaning with the stretch. “I’m going to get ready for bed,” he informs no one in particular, setting to work on his toothbrush.

When Y/N comes out she looks at him in shock, her eyes are wide and she seems almost… afraid. “Sam! What are you doing?!” she bellows.

“M’brushing m’teeth,” he mumbles, his eyes wide at her reaction, glancing between Steve and I for some confirmation that Y/N has in fact lost her mind, and not himself.

“You can’t do that by the campsite!” she screeches, marching toward him and shoving his bag of toiletries into his chest, “There are bears here! Not just black bears, _grizzlies_!”

“So?” he mumbles.

“So! So you can’t spit that out here, it has such a potent smell! It could attract bears!” she looks frantic, pushing him down the path, “You have to go find the bathroom and finish there. No food, no lotion, nothing that smells in the tent!”

“Bucky’s out then,” he taunts, turning down the path, i just roll my eyes.

Y/N seems so worked up, I just want her to relax, so I start tracing soft circles over her back. At first she jumps at the unexpected touch, but quickly settles into it, leaning against me. “Hey, take it easy,” I try to reassure her, “We’ll be alright, we can handle a bear or two.” I’m smiling stupidly, just trying to ease her tension a little, but that fucking birdman can’t keep his mouth shut.

“No, you know what!” he shouts, spinning on his heel and grabbing an empty water bottle for his toothpaste. “That’s exactly the problem! You’re so careless!” I’m stunned by his reaction. He and I tease and poke at each other, but there’s always an understanding there. I don’t know how to take this, so I just stare at him speechless. Y/N looks as confused as I feel.

“You two might be hopped up on some super serum shit,” he points harshly at me then at Steve, who looks somehow bored with this uncharacteristic outburst, “but she’s just a person. Just a regular person! She _should_ be afraid of bears, dude! And jumping off of cliffs!”

“Woah…” she murmured, leaning a little closer, “Take it easy, Sam. He was just joking.”

He doesn’t let up, stepping forward, letting the intensity of whatever the fuck is driving him get the better of him. “Bullshit! You could have been paralyzed or killed jumping off that stupid cliff like a damn teenager with no impulse control. And what the hell would you do if a bear did wander in here while the Tin Man here’s out brooding or whatever the hell he does?!”

My anger is bubbling with every word as Y/N slowly shrinks under the shadow of his frustration. I can see her start to shift, unsure what Sam wants to hear. “That’s enough, Sam,” I warn him sharply stepping in front of Y/N without really thinking about what I’m doing. My right arm is extended crossing over her body as my fingers curl around her arm, guiding her behind me. “You don’t have to scare her.”

“Man, shut the hell up,” he scoffs, turning to find the bathroom, clearly frustrated that I, the object of his complaint stepped in, but I couldn’t just let him keep railing on her like that.

I can’t think of what the hell that was really about so I glance at Steve to see if he has any idea. He shakes his head in irritation, pushing to his feet and turning in the direction Sam disappeared towards.

“I’ll talk to him,” he promises, “just let him cool down.” Let _him_ cool down, my mind is screaming. What the fuck was he thinking? Where did that even come from?

Soon every thought of Sam falls out of my head the second Y/N slips her fingers into my hand, each icy finger fitting in between mine. Her other hand rests on my forearm as she leans up to me, her chin on my shoulder as she murmurs softly, “Maybe we should give him some space when he gets back.”

I nod, she’s right, Sam definitely needs a break from me and my constant harassment, and really I’m only interested in keeping her hanging on me like this. For a moment I wonder how the hell this even happened. Just a few days ago we were leaving New York, I was taunting her and she was vehemently kicking me in the knee in that stupid backseat. And it was normal. And now I’m a fucking mess over this girl.

“I’m pretty tired should we just…?” she interrupts my thoughts, tilting her head toward the tent and I feel the weight of my silence this whole time. Like a fucking idiot. I haven’t figured out how to respond quite yet, so I squeeze her hand in mine and pull her after me towards the tent.

* * *

She’s already shimmied into her sleeping bag by the time I’ve zipped the entry closed behind us. My first thought is how fucking adorable she looks tucked into the bag, the top pulled so high over her chin that I can barely see her soft lips peeking out. I just want to grab her face with both hands and kiss those sweet pink lips, hard.

Finally deciding I’m tired of dancing around this, I push my sleeping bag closer to hers before I climb in. I seem to get myself into trouble when I think too much, so I’m trying to just _do_ , and I drop my arm over her waist as I settle onto my pillow. That deep curve just above her hip is even more tempting when she’s laying on her side like this, facing me, a perfect cradle for my forearm while I spread my hand over her back and pull her closer.

She slides across the tent floor more easily than I’d expected, the slick fabric of the sleeping bag slipping with a whispered zipping sound against the smooth fabric of the tent, and she giggles. She fucking giggles as she crashes into my chest. I inhale sharply, expecting a surprised and resistant push back, but goddamn. She giggled. A tentative laugh rumbles through me as she nestles in closer, curling her body into mine.

I duck my head so my face is just above her hair, her cheek is pressed against my chest. Fuck. She smells so good. That same warm, sweetness of her shampoo, but now I can also smell the smoke from the campfire, a twinge of the lake water she leapt into this morning. Fearless. Stupid. I snort at the memory and she hums her question at my unsolicited laughter.

“I can’t believe you jumped off that cliff,” I chuckle and feel her laugh in my arms. “Did you know how deep it was?”

“Of course!” she scoffs, nuzzling closer. “I’m not an idiot. I used to go all the time wi–” she stops abruptly. I’m not sure what to say so I just keep pulling easily at the ends of her hair, waiting for her to say something. “I used go when I lived there,” she finishes with a finality that I’m not used to from her. Maybe when I’m getting on her nerves, but not like this.

“Hmm,” I hum absentmindedly, still not knowing what to say, not wanting to push things. But she’s apparently on edge about it because I feel her tense at my short answer and pull back slightly. I hold her tight though, unrelenting.

“What?” she demands quietly.

“It just doesn’t seem like you, s’all,” I’m trying to undo whatever has her so on edge. “I just can’t picture you spending all your time in such a… quiet place. Settling down.”

Thank fucking god she laughs. I don’t know where this conversation is going or how I got us started on it, and she seems a little upset, but not with me…

“Where were you three years ago?” she asks ruefully. “No, it wasn’t the right place for me. I was running away, trying to find adventure wherever I could, so I followed a guy out there. I shouldn’t have. I knew it wouldn’t work, but he was a way out, something new. ” I know this story obviously doesn’t end well for this guy, but I still can’t help stiffening at her words, at the idea of her with someone else. It’s so fucking stupid considering that until three days ago I didn’t even know I wanted her for myself, but here I am…

We lapse into silence, and I can feel her breathing slow into a steady rhythm for a while until she jumps when the tent entry zips open and Steve and Sam climb inside. Sam avoids looking towards us at all and heads straight for his sleeping bag at the far end of the tent. Steve nods once with a knowing smile. He’s such a damn know-it-all sometimes I wish I could reach out and trip him  right now.

Some time later everything’s still, her breathing has quieted again and I’m nearly asleep when Steve rolls. The sound of his sleeping bag sloshing against the floor of the tent has Y/N jolting into high-alert again. I’m a bit confused by how jumpy she is. She’s balling my shirt in tight fists, holding perfectly still, I can practically see how she’s controlling her breath, keeping it as quiet and slow as possible.

“What’s the matter, cолнышко?” I whisper, stroking the back of her head lightly. I’m so groggy I don’t even realize I’ve used the nickname, and I sure as hell don’t know what corner of my memory I pulled it from.

She shudders slightly, shifting closer until I can feel her legs molding against mine through our sleeping bags, she burrows tight against me, making herself small, taking whatever comfort I give her. “I thought I heard… Nevermind.” she shakes her head softly, pushing away whatever thought she was about to speak.

I never knew what a light sleeper she is. I realize with a tight discontent that people who sleep lightly are people who carry fear, and it all slides together in my head like a Rubik’s cube. She knew exactly how to help me when I was having a panic attack, she wakes at the slightest noise, and she said she was “running away” when she moved west. She’s awfully young to have such a full atlas. It dawns on me all at once as she’s huddled tight, in the quiet, in the stifling dark, finally unable to push away the fear that’s been constantly ebbing just below her calm, bright surface: she’s always running.

I know enough to know that asking her to explain will hurt, and I’m not sure if she trusts me enough for that, so I stick to trying to calm her, reassure her. “You’re okay,” I breathe against the top of her head, a barely audible whisper, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Over and over, mimicking her words to me in Chicago  until I can feel her take in one long deep breath and release it, slow and steady, the tension in her muscles unknotting with the air leaving her lungs.

After a few minutes, that slow steady breathing returns and I think she’s asleep again. I know Steve’s asleep because I can hear his snoring. It’s not terribly loud, but I know it’s Steve and pretty soon all these soft rhythmic sounds have me on the edge of sleep until she mumbles a groggy “Thank you, Bucky,” into my skin and I just soak it in for a minute before I mumble back a contented, “Mhmm,” and fall asleep.

* * *

I’m not sure what’s woken me, but there’s a palpable unease in the air. I can feel the tension before I even open my eyes, and when I do it’s still dark, but I can make out Y/N sitting upright, stock-still, her head slightly ducked, shoulders high and tense, like she’s listening and ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Two fingertips cover her mouth tentatively, as if they could stem and quiet her breathing even more. She’s working so fucking hard to stay calm, stay quiet.

I’m not sure how to help. I know I’ll scare her if I touch her and by the way she’s listening to every sound right now I’m afraid to even speak. Deciding a whisper is probably the least intrusive option, I breathe her name. The first syllable hardly passes my lips before her attention snaps to me, eyes wide and alert. I can see her chest is heaving, begging for more air, but she fights to keep her breath quiet. She looks fucking terrified.

I reach out slowly, my fingers just brushing over hers, tightly clutching the sleeping bag gathered at her waist. “Shh, it’s just me,” I try to reassure her. What a stupid fucking thing to say. Who else would it be. I fucking shushed her as if she’d made any noise in the first place. I’m clearly out of my depth here.

“You okay?” I ask, and that seems more appropriate, though I’m pretty damn sure she’s not. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head a little but doesn’t take her eyes off of me and the enormous, startled look doesn’t pass. “I-I’m not sure. I heard something and I thought I was…” she swallows hard, blinking quickly a few times before finally dropping her gaze. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion as she looks carefully around the tent while lowering her right hand away from her lips. The shuddering and rapid rising of her shoulders tells me she’s still panicked and silently heaving.

“Hey,” I whisper, tugging gently on her hand in mine. Her head snaps back to me, her eyes locking on mine like she’d sink if I weren’t awake with her right now. “Tell me five things you can touch and what they feel like.”

“W-what?” she stumbles, gnawing on her lips and looking at me darkly.

She thinks I’m making fun of her so I sit up to meet her but the noise makes her jump, her eyes darting to the ground where my sleeping bag shifted against the floor of the tent. “It’ll help, trust me,” I try to encourage her, “Five things.”

She takes in a staggering breath, eyes darting around her. My hand is still gripping hers, holding it across her body, my thumb stroking slow circles over the back of her palm.

“Okay, um. The walls of the tent.” She glances at the dancing shadow of a tree branch against the fabric.

“Alright, what’s it feel like?”

She reaches out, running her shaking fingertips over the nylon. “Smooth, loud. Cold and a little wet.” I nod but she continues, “Dew. It must be nearly morning.” This is good, she’s thinking about other things, thinking critically.

“Okay that’s one,” I push, “Another?”

“Um m-my sleeping bag,” she mutters, “it’s smooth too, more even, slick. But it’s so fucking hot. I woke up and I… I couldn’t breathe, so I…” Shit.

“Okay, okay. Well, let’s fix that,” I cut her off, not wanting her to spiral back into whatever had her so freaked out. I reach over her with my left hand, searching in the dark for the zipper of her sleeping bag. “Can you… “ I start, tugging without success. It’s stuck. My right arm stretches behind her, holding the top of the bag so I can tear at the zipper with my left. With a hard yank the bag rips open and Y/N sighs in relief as the cool air hits her like a tidal wave, washing away some of the weight of her waking nightmare.

Before I can even move back, her forehead drops into the crook of my neck. With one arm still around her back, my other hand has made it to her knee now, along with half the sleeping bag. Her hand slips up to the other side of my neck, and I can feel myself holding my breath for a second, waiting to see what the hell she’s going to do.

“Thank you,” she breathes, and I just nod in response because, _fuck_ I can’t think of any other response when her fingers start to tangle in the long hair at the base of my neck.

“Three…” she murmurs, her face still buried against my neck. “Soft, strong…” she makes a slow, gentle fist pulling her hand tight against my scalp, forcing a rush of air out of my lungs. If this were any other situation I’d have had her under me in a second, but she’s coming down from a panic attack, and my best friends are asleep 4 feet away, and it’s Y/N and a week ago we weren’t even friends and now this?

She’s still holding me tight, still holding herself so close, and even if I can’t do much, shit, I have to do _something,_ and before I can think (thank fucking god) my left hand is gripping her knees, and my right, still behind her back, pulling her closer until she’s practically in my lap, her legs lazing over mine.

“Four,” she hums, pulling back slightly so her lips are just dancing over the skin of my neck. “So warm…” My fingers dig into her waist and the soft skin just above her knee as she traces the icy tip of her nose up over my skin and it’s so different from the soft hot breath ghosting across my neck. I can feel her smile, feel her teeth instead of her lips as she whispers, “goosebumps” to describe what she feels, like I’d told her to do.

Fuck, this girl is going to be the death of me. I don’t even realize I’m doing it, until she arches her chest against mine, but my fingertips have slid just barely under the hem of her shirt. She unclenches the fist of my hair she’d been holding, her hand gliding so gently over my neck as she lifts her head away. She stops in front of me, so fucking close.

She watches me the closer she gets. I’ve never seen anyone so intense, so set on keeping eye contact, until her lips are just so lightly brushing against mine as she tauntingly _speaks_. “Five…” she pauses and her breath is so warm and soft, her lips sweeping so lightly against mine. I can’t fucking take it.

One hand is already splayed over her back, pressing her as close to me as I can possibly get, the other gripping higher on her thigh, insistent. I’ve just crashed into her lips, greedily taking what she so delicately teased at, and I just fucking kiss her. She responds with a sweet sweep of her tongue over my lip and I suddenly don’t give a flying fuck that Sam and Steve are just a few feet away.

If I knew which one of those goddamn idiots moved in their sleep, I’d kill them. My money’s on Sam. Either way, the sound made Y/N jump again. This time she settles back into the crook of my neck with a stifled giggle.

She glances at the lightening sky through a screen in the tent and kisses my cheek. “C’mon, we should get a fire going. It’ll be light soon and we’ll have to get going.” I groan in frustration as she slips a hoodie on, rolling up her sleeping bag. She tilts her head at me with a lift of her eyebrow, “Like you could go back to sleep anyway.”

“Sleep no, bed yes, cолнышко.”

“What the fuck is that?” she asks, this time well above a whisper, no longer caring if she wakes the others. She’s eyeing me warily, “I can only assume I wouldn’t approve of it if you said it in English.”

“Don’t worry about it, sunshine,” I tease, shoving at her ass with my foot as she bends to step out of the tent door. She deftly reaches back and snatches my shoe from the offending foot, throwing the shoe back inside to the other side of the tent. Old habits, I guess.


	8. Change of Plans

This morning is a battle. It’s a battle to focus on really anything but Y/N. I’m just not sure what to make of any of this. I have no idea what she’s thinking while she flits around the campsite packing up the sleeping bags and tent while Sam works on breakfast. She doesn’t seem any warmer to me than she is to Sam, playfully dodging his reach when she steals a piece of bacon, or than when she grabs Steve’s arm to get an extra lift to push the tent bag on top of the car. I can’t figure out if this morning was just a weird thing in an emotional moment or if it was something more.

It’s also a battle over the next stop. She’s sitting stubbornly on the picnic table holding her atlas while Sam begs her to get in the car. Steve is rolling his eyes and I’m barely holding back my laughter.

“Come on! You’re being such a princess!” Sam scoffs, “Get in the car.”

“No! Vegas is not part of the plan!” She shouts back defiantly.

“Why not?! It’ll be so fun, c’mon!” He gestures to the car.

“No! We’re supposed to keep going west and see the Redwood Forest, _then_ go south and stop in LA.” She flips open the atlas, “See? I’ve already mapped it out.”

“It’s a road trip, princess,” he teases, emphasizing the nickname he knows she hates, “Unexpected stops are _expected_. We’re going.”

She looks totally exasperated holding both hands up and raising her eyebrows at me and Steve as if begging us to reason with Sam. Steve caves first. “Vegas sounds kind of fun.”

My attention snaps to him, shock written all over my face, I can’t fucking believe Steve Rogers, Captain America, the world’s strongest moral compass, _wants_ to go to Sin City! Apparently neither can Y/N because she glares at him slack-jawed. I make the mistake of chuckling at the exchange and it draws her attention, and not the kind of attention I want from her.

“Bucky?” Her gaze is locked on mine and I feel an unprecedented need to appease her.

“I’m sorry.” I try to actually look sorry but her frustration tells me she’s not buying it. “Darlin’ we’ve been out in the woods for days. I’m from Brooklyn. I hate camping. I’m ready for a little civilization.”

She scoffs and by the look on her face you’d think someone just slapped her.

“Let’s. Go.” Sam urges her and I can’t help rolling my eyes at him. I want to shove him and tell him to give her a goddamn minute.

I don’t need to. Her look says it all. She fixes him with such a harsh glare, even he can’t stand still beneath it. First he tossed her in that lake, ruined her phone, then whole toothpaste argument, now this? He’s in deep shit and he just won’t stop. Steve seems to sense it too and recruits him to help return the rented camping gear.

Y/N yanks her atlas from the back seat roughly, grumbling as she turns down the path toward the mountains. “Fine but I’m taking an hour to walk before we go to the bottomless pit of annoying drunk people.” I roll my eyes at that and watch her disappear to cool off. She’s being so fucking dramatic.

I turn to climb into the car with Sam and Steve but Steve locks the damn doors and waves out the window that he’ll be back and that I should keep an eye on her. I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking, clearly she wants go be alone. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with me and Sam so early in the morning.

* * *

With the campsite empty and no one around, I turn down the path after her at a light jog. I want to catch up but I know she wants space so I take it easy. When I find her she’s picking her way down the bouldered surface where the path ends at an enormous lake at the foot of the ragged granite peaks. She deftly makes  her way closer to the edge of the water.

I’m not sure if she wants company right now as she settles down on a rock by the water, unfolding the atlas to work out a path from Teton Village to Nevada. I’m especially not sure if she wants _my_ company, but I feel out of place just standing here so I climb down after her. Much slower. Shit I don’t know how she did this so quickly. My movements are clumsy and brutal and she surely hears me curse when my foot slips or my hand lands on a sharp corner.

She must have heard me stumbling down to her but she never looked back, just started talking to me like I’d been there the whole time. 

“This is my favorite place in the world, well… that I’ve been to, I guess.” Her voice is clear but quiet, and I have to move closer to hear her. “I came here a few times when I was young. Jackson Lake is huge and beautiful and Jackson Hole is full of tourist shops and cafes, all fun, but camping by Jenny Lake is… special.”

She’s still not looking at me at all, her fingers trace over the area on the Atlas but it’s not detailed enough to show this lake. This is a memory. It’s personal. I feel like I should say something but I don’t know what, so I don’t. Luckily she keeps talking.

She finally turns to me, notching her bent knee higher on the rock she’s sitting on so she can face me. “It’s like that place that you know will always feel safe and peaceful for you, like it’s the center of who you are even if you’re not physically there, you know?”

I pause for a moment just watching her because she’s right, this _is_ her. She fits, she moves easily here, breathes calmly, and yet something isn’t quite right… she still had some sort of reaction last night. I’ve been silent too long because she shakes her head dismissing her own thought.

“Nevermind, I’m being dreamy and stupid.”

“No!” I jump in, forcing myself to say _something_. I’ve managed one fucking syllable. Well done. “No, I get it. It's… Brooklyn was like that for me once, the block where I grew up. But it’s not really the same anymore.”

She nods, looking back at the atlas in her lap for a moment before her gaze drifts over the water and up across the jagged mountains just beyond. I don’t know what to say, I never do. Steve always knows how to pull people back in situations like this but I’m completely lost.

“Why don’t you spend more time here then?” I try, genuinely curious, hoping she’ll tell me what makes her jump, what makes her want to run here. For some reason the last week I’ve started to realize that I just want to know her and shield her from those things. “If it feels like home…?”

“Oh it doesn’t feel like home,” she states with a punch of finality, as if it should have been obvious. “It’s like when you love a place or a person and it’s perfect in your memory _because_ it has an expiration date? You know that the shadow of your real life can never touch it because it was always meant to be temporary, and there’s just something freeing and safe about that, like a little bubble. But it can never be _home_. That’s what this place is to me.”

“And all the other stops on your map… all temporary, too?”

She looks sad for a moment, reflecting. Her thumb lifts the pages of the atlas and she watches them fall quickly past her fingers. “Yeah. Yeah I guess so. So many places, and all of them perfect in their own way but only because they’re vacation, not home.”

“So where _is_ home?” I ask, lifting a few pages to casually examine the colorful web of already-traveled roads she’d traced across the maps.

She closes the book and leans her head on my shoulder, looking back out to the mountains. “I’ll let you know when I find it.”

“Is that what this is?” I ask as I tap my fingers on the atlas. Shit, I’m really pushing it. “There are a lot of roads and places you’ve tried in this book. What are you running from?”

I’m afraid I’ve pushed her too far when she’s quiet for a long minute, worrying at the edges of the atlas resting on her knees. Finally she speaks, her voice even quieter and a little rough, “I’m not running from anything. I'm… looking for something. Somewhere safe, that feels like the place I’m supposed to be, with people I’m meant to be with.”

“That’s not New York?”

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, leaning on my shoulder again and looking out over the water with a deep sigh. “I’ve been there a long time now, that’s true. Maybe I’m searching for something that just doesn’t exist anymore for me.”

I’m not sure if she meant to say that thought out loud. It feels personal and close but she’s still leaning on me and I don’t know what to say so instead I curl my fingers between hers and I lift her hand in mine onto my lap. I think it’s working because she just nuzzles closer into my neck and goddamn I love the way that feels. But this still feels heavy, and this time it’s my turn to sell her on this trip.

“I think you’ve at least found somewhere safe. I mean shit, Sam’s ready to murder me just for mentioning bears last night.” I grin stupidly as I say it, but she laughs anyway, rolling her head off of me and pulling up to her feet.

“Yeah, what is his deal the last few days?” She’s climbing back up to the trail, her atlas tucked under her arm.

“He’s just still hurt because Steve and I can outrun him and he doesn’t want you to get hurt, too.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I even realize what I’m saying, that I’m implying there’s enough feeling here, between us, that I could hurt her. Fuck.

It seems to register with her too. She pauses for a moment at the top of the wall of boulders we’d just ascended, glancing down at her atlas for a moment. A part of me wants to believe she’s debating throwing the damn thing away. That same part of me is hoping she’s realizing she’s safe with me, with us, her friends in New York, Sam and Steve and Natasha, that she could make it her home if she wanted, if she’d stop searching for it everywhere else.

“So what do we do?” She looks so fucking timid, somehow it breaks my heart and sets my blood burning all at once. We’ve spent so much of our time before this trip, and even the beginning of the trip arguing or prodding at each other, I really shouldn’t be surprised that she’s a little afraid to jump right in.

I don’t want to over-think it or push to far too fast, so even though I want to take her face in my hands and kiss her until that scared, uncertain look isn’t even a memory, I opt for the lighter approach.

“Well I think the solution is to make sure Sam stays in last place,” I smirk and stoop down, quickly grabbing the atlas while I capture her knees against my chest, her waist hits just above my shoulder when I lift. She falls forward with a surprised shriek, her hands digging into my back.

“Bucky!” Her voice is high and loud, outraged, but giggling. “What are you doing?!”

“Makin’ sure you come in first place with me.” She squeals again when I take off at a jog down the trail back towards the camp.

She had squirmed and complained half way back, but by the time we made it to the empty campsite and spotted Sam and Steve in the car, she had resigned to resting her chin on her palm, elbow digging into my shoulder. I’d slowed to a walk and dropped her next to the car.

“There,” I tease, “next time Sam calls shotgun, he’ll have to race us both for it.”

Her laugh is rich and easy again as she shoves me away, climbing into the back seat, swatting Sam playfully in the back of the head as she does.

Steve turns to Sam with a look I can’t quite figure out. “You sure you don’t want to call off that friend?”

Sam rubs the back of his head, rolling his eyes with mock irritation, “Yeah, man. Pretty damn sure.”

* * *

The battle resumed once we got in the car. The drive was long and mostly flat, with occasional stretches of smaller, less jagged mountains. The majority of the time felt like driving through a furnace because Y/N insisted on having her window open. She can be so fucking stubborn. She kept insisting that if she wasn’t going to get her time outdoors in the Redwoods she would at least breathe in the fresh air while we drove, mumbling about “the land of silicone and air conditioning.”

I swear I don’t even know her anymore. We live in New York for fuck’s sake, but you’d think we picked her up from the wilderness and kidnapped her from Lewis and Clark. I think she was just doing it to get under Sam’s skin. She’s damn good at that. Now I know why she and I always fought before. Honestly if it weren’t for the last few days, I probably would have thrown her out of the car somewhere in Utah.

Following our path on her atlas, tracing a new line, she groaned to see how close we came to the Grand Canyon and bypassed it. She complained for a solid 5 minutes when we passed the turn-out for Lake Mead.

Finally Steve put his foot down. Taking on his patented “Captain tone” he firmly reminded her that she’d planned every single stop on the trip so far, she could handle one destination for Sam without spoiling it.

That seemed to do it and she spent the rest of the drive looking out the window absentmindedly, chewing on red vines or tapping on the glass with the beat of the music. This time I was the one spread out over the back seat and it was her hands tugging lightly at my hair, scratching at my scalp. It felt so damn good, I fell asleep within an hour.

* * *

Now I’ve woken up from the soft hum against my ear. I’d buried myself tight against her stomach when she mumbles a soft “Woah!” her head turning to follow the sleek building and dancing lights outside the window, her eyes sweeping up higher and higher to take it all in.

I’m stiff as I sit up, rubbing my neck and rolling my shoulders. I catch a glimpse of the carefully carved buildings outside, colorful and bright. The sun’s beginning to set and the lights are just beginning to glow as we drive down the infamous strip.

I can’t help laughing as she practically shouts, incredulous, “What the fuck? Was that a White Castle?”

“Oh shit! I haven’t had White Castle in _years_!” Sam leans forward in his seat so he can look as we drive past it.

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that,” she fires back, “But that is the fanciest White Castle I’ve ever seen. How is _that_ across the street from the Mirage?!”

She stays glued to the window, watching as each new sleek building slips by, her eyes following the glittering lights before falling to the next corner full of intricately carved stone, or the enormous image of some beautiful woman or an advertisement for some famous musician. She finally leans towards me again to catch a glimpse of the down-scaled Eiffel Tower cutting into the sky straight ahead.

“Ooh!” She lets out a soft gasp, drinking in every carved arch and pillar of the hotel/casino entry below the tower. She’s leaning across my legs to see out of my window to get a better look. “This is the farthest I’ve been geographically from Paris, but probably the closest I’ll ever get to seeing it. I know it’s completely manufactured but don’t you dare spoil it for me,” she warns, flicking my knee playfully without even taking her eyes off the building.

“Oh my god! Look at that little itty bitty New York!!!” She’s downright excited now and Sam’s shit-eating grin couldn’t be bigger. Steve’s just shaking his head in the driver’s seat, smiling. Apparently she’s forgotten all about her grudge, eyes locked on the sleek black pyramid as we drive by.

“What the fu–” I start when we pull into one of the hotels, but Y/N jumps in before I can finish.

“Sam! The Four Seasons?! I can’t afford this…”

“Don’t worry about it, princess.”

“No, no! Sam! I know you owe me a phone and all, but no, I can’t let you do this!”

“I’m not,” he grins, climbing out of the car. I have no idea what the hell he’s up to. My eyes narrow on him but he ignores it.

When we walk in Y/N is still staring at the lavish surroundings while Steve checks in. I hear the receptionist inform him that the room’s already been paid for but don’t give it much thought, enjoying the stunned excitement on Y/N’s face as she slowly spins to take in every inch of the lobby.

On the way to the room Sam convinces us that we’ll get cleaned up and grab a nice dinner before heading out for a night of fun. Y/N doesn’t seem completely sold, I think she’d be happy to just wander around the buildings, but it would be nice to let loose a little. 

My mind is wandering, thinking about what I would and wouldn’t like to do when we walk into the enormous suite, and I mean fucking enormous. Tony must have been involved in this.

Before I can register what’s happening Y/N has dropped her bag right in front of my goddamn feet and run screaming onto the balcony. Natasha.

“What are you doing here?! I thought you weren’t coming on the trip!”

“I’m not, I changed my plans,” Natasha replied evenly, but with a smile. She turned a sharp look to Steve, though she was still talking to Y/N, “Steve said you all were taking an unexpected turn, so I thought I’d come out and make sure you were still good.” I have no fucking clue what that’s about but Nat is damn good and quickly turns back to her friend, “And it’s Vegas, how could I say no to that when Steve asked me to find you guys a place to stay?”

“Well either way, I’m so glad you’re here!” Y/N slipped her hand around Natasha’s waist and Nat over her friend’s shoulder, steering her towards one of the large rooms off the main living space. “I can’t believe you marooned me on testosterone island!”

* * *


	9. Las Vegas

After days crammed in the car and a night sleeping in the woods, this enormous suite in this luxury hotel feels excessive. Nat seemed to blend right in, a smug grin painting her face, not a hair out of place, a sleek dress to match the sleek tables and bright furniture. She’s the exact opposite of her friend, linked arm in arm with her, hair a soft tangle, still in that hoodie whose campfire smell lingers every time she moves. Just thinking about the smell of it reminds me of the morning but I shake the thought from my head, there are enough distractions here.

Once the girls split off to get ready for the night, the rest of us followed suit. Sam had been the first to get cleaned up and had bolted out the door to “take care of a few things” before dinner, leaving me with Steve who is especially annoying tonight for some reason. He won’t stop talking about Y/N. Or rather asking about her.

He’s my best friend, and he’s not an idiot - most of the time - so I know he can see how something’s shifted. And if there’s one thing Steve Rogers has never struggled with, it’s persistence. He keeps asking what I’m going to do about her and scolding me like a damn kid for not having done something already.

“She’s not going to wait around forever, Buck,” he insists. Again. I just shake my head, rummaging through my bag for any clothes that don’t smell like a campfire. “You oughta make a move.”

“Do I really need to?” I ask, irritated, “She was in my lap this morning… we… whatever, I think she gets it.”

“I don’t know,” he insists, lifting a skeptical eyebrow, “Sounds like she’s doing all the work.” I push my damp hair back out of my face before throwing a pillow at him. He dodges it, ducking into the bathroom for his turn to shower up. There’s no way he can be right, is there? Suddenly his annoying fucking words are nagging at me. She did sort of make the first move in the tent, and in South Dakota, it was always her, gently pushing the boundaries in the car, testing the waters…

Damnit Steve’s right. The only time I actually did anything was in Chicago and I royally fucked it up and tried to pin it on her anyway. Damnit. I need to do something.

* * *

Sam had picked out a spot for dinner and said to meet him there. As we walk back up the strip, it’s hard not to smile at Y/N’s drifting attention. One minute she’s laughing at some over the top billboard, the next her mouth is falling open and her eyes are shining with the flashing lights. She wants to wander down every street with shops, Natasha at her elbow pointing at expensive dresses and shoes through the windows.

She seems so lost in all there is to see that I’m surprised when she grabs hold of my arm, one hand sliding into mine, tangling our fingers while her other hand grips higher, holding my whole arm tight against her body. She’s so warm. Even in this heat, she feels warm and so damn soft. I catch myself staring down at her while her eyes are glued to the fountain display we’ve paused in front of. When I realize I’m staring and look away I catch a smirk on Nat’s features and roll my eyes. She’s just as bad as Steve. Maybe worse because she’s so damn smug about it.

That smug grin sets me wondering how the hell this happened, when the hell this happened. Steve’s right, I know he is, I should do or say something, but I don’t know what. I take in a sharp breath, steeling myself for something when she looks up at me expectantly at the sudden movement that only she can feel because she’s that close, and I lose all my nerve.

This is all totally unexpected, and I certainly haven’t helped any in getting us here. I’m terrified that anything I say will ruin it so I just mutter something about how we’re going to be late if we stay at the fountain longer, which is the worst thing I can say, because that’s all I want to do. I just want to stay here with her holding onto me gentle but close, but my stupid mouth.

She looks confused for a second, like she knows that’s not what I wanted to say, and then suddenly she’s stepping away a little, and her hand is slipping out of mine and my mind is racing for the right words to stop it, but I can’t find them and then it’s too late, and she’s gone. She’s linked her arm through Nat’s and leans her head on her friend’s shoulder as they walk forward.

Steve turns to me and throws his palms up, giving me a stern and questioning look. He didn’t need to, that look is the exact mirror of what I’m thinking to myself. A “what the fuck was that?” expression.

* * *

At the restaurant bar, waiting for Sam and our table, the girls are curled toward each other, talking quietly. Nat’s ordered the pair of them shots, which Y/N fires back without hesitation in between frustrated gestures. I could swear I catch an annoyed glance from Nat, but I can’t really pay attention when Sam walks in, making straight for them.

“I have two things for you.” His hand slips over Y/N’s shoulder into a loose hug, more to alert her to his presence than anything, but my eyes and Nat’s narrow on the stranger who’d followed him, hovering a few feet away. “Your phone, princess,” Sam teases, handing her a pristine new phone to replace the one that had been damaged in the now infamous South Dakota lake incident.

She nearly jumps off of the barstool with excitement, taking it from him and holding it to her chest before swiping at the screen to see all of her information restored. “Oh my god, Sam!” she practically shouts, reaching to squeeze his side with one arm, while I try to stifle my unwarranted frustration. “How did you do this?”

“Well… Tony did a little digging and sent over your account information so they could restore it ll from the cloud storage,” he answers looking a little tentative, probably hoping she won’t blow up at him for having Tony dig up her account and password. “You should really clear out your photos. How many pictures of a cat can one person have?”

I know I’m glaring when she slaps his arm playfully as she thumbs through the pages of the phone. “Listen, Bob is a very handsome cat. Someone needs to document it,” she quips checking that everything’s been restored before thanking him.

“Your cat’s name is Bob?” The man’s voice draws my attention immediately and I’m tense, wondering who the hell this guy is and why he’s here. It cuts through the smile on her face too as her attention snaps to him. “So regal! Please tell me he weighs 20lbs and has a special pillow he sits on while you watch TV.”

“I beg your pardon!” she feigned outrage, gaping at him with her hand and fingers outstretched across her chest, “There are many acclaimed Roberts in history, some of them Kings!”

“Oh yeah? Name one - no Game of Thrones Kings, there are too damn many.”

I glance around at my friends for some explanation as to who the hell this guy is. Sam must have caught my look, because he jumps in before Y/N can answer.

“Guys this is my friend Riley,” Steve nods, and Riley lifts his gaze from her long enough to smile at each of us, but he’s quickly back to her. I’m fighting the urge to pull on her arm and keep her there, I really have no right. “Riley this is–”

She fires out her name before launching into her defense, “and there are so many King Roberts! First and foremost, King Bob of 3rd Street School!” Again I’m lost, glancing quickly from face to face. “From Recess?!”

“Oh c’mon!” Riley groans before continuing their playful argument. I’m speechless, how the hell did this happen. Just a minute ago she was curled up at my side and now she’s locked in this conversation with this guy as if the rest of us just disappeared. Fuck. I should have kept my mouth shut at the fountain.

They’re still going when we get to our table so they naturally fall into seats beside each other. I’m so irritated but I have no right to be, she’s not mine and that’s painfully obvious right now. Steve keeps shooting looks at me and it’s just firing me up more. I know I’m brooding now, just a whirl of frustration, but I can’t figure out how to reach her and pull her back to me and away from this charismatic stranger Sam’s brought with him. And it hurts. It hurts how easily she falls into step with someone else, and that just leads me to anger.

I’m so far gone in my own head that when we’re wrapping up and figuring out what’s next and she keeps complaining about every option, not interested in gambling, not feeling like a show, not in the mood for anything that’s suggested, I don’t even notice how she keeps watching me until Nat’s sharp heel lands on the top of my foot. I glare at her but she’s staring straight ahead, engaged in the conversation like nothing happened.

“Really? It’s your first time in Las Vegas, and you’re not going to gamble at all?” Riley asks with exaggerated horror.

She blushes under the intensity of everyone’s attention on her, it’s so damn cute. She pushes her hair back and looks up, her eyes flickering to mine for a moment before meeting his again. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem like my kind of thing, I didn’t really want to come here in the first place…”

“Oh come on. Enough!” Sam whines from across the table, “We’re here now, just enjoy it. It’s another spot on your map or atlas or whatever! A new place!”

He meant it to encourage her, to urge her to let go, but I knew her enough now to recognize the way she rolled her lips between her teeth was a sign of the small wound burrowing deeper at that thought.

When she turns to him with a smile and a seemingly hearty, “Yeah,” she sounds convinced, but I can read her like one of her maps now. I know that smile isn’t as full as it could be, I see how her shoulders have drawn in slightly, closing her in just a little, and how she’s far too interested in pushing her food around on her plate.

I know what she held back, what she meant to say. “Yeah, another place I don’t belong.”

“I heard about a piano bar not far from here, that could be fun?” Nat suggests, taking the last sip of her drink.

“That sounds like a good middle ground,” Steve agrees, rising from the table with a squeeze to my shoulder. How is a squeeze condescending? Damn I really need to cool off.  “I’ll go call a cab or two.”

“C’mon! Not even a slot machine?” Riley asks, again pushing her about gambling, this time his hand is hovering low on her back, guiding her away from the table as we all stand to leave. He’s offered to play any game with her, to pay so she doesn’t have to risk anything but she’s resolutely refused every game.

She indulges him with a laugh this time, but she looks right at me, chewing her lip. I want to think she wants me to jump in, and god I just want to shove his fucking hand away from her and pull her close to me and out the door, but I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know. So I stand there like an idiot watching and waiting, and he keeps pushing, but she’s just looking at me.  Eventually she sighs and turns back to him with a stiff smile and agrees.

She agrees. She agrees and he’s grinning and pulling her away with sharp banter and warm smiles. I hadn’t even realized I’d completely frozen where I stood until I feel a sharp pinch at the back of my arm pushing me toward the bar. Damn Natasha and her sharp fingernails.

* * *

“What the hell was that?!” Nat demands, finally releasing my arm after steering me away from the others

“What? I didn’t do anything?”

“Exactly!” she hisses, watching Steve and Sam wander out to catch a cab. “God you’re so thick. She looked right at you, she was looking for you to give her a reason to stay with you, you idiot!”

I roll my eyes and step back from her. This is not a conversation I’m interested in having. Nat is so forward and reckless, she can’t see why anyone holds back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter shaking my head and looking anywhere but her eyes. I can’t look at anyone right now. “I’m definitely an idiot, though. I thought…” I pause, not willing to have this conversation with Natasha. “It doesn’t matter. She’s off enjoying Vegas with Riley,” I practically spit his name, “and she and I… we’ll be back to annoying the shit out of each other in no time.”

“Oh my god,” she’s muttering, rolling her eyes, “I owe Rogers an apology. You two are impossible. Just talk to her! Take her out. Tell her you like her.”

“I don’t think… What do you mean you owe Steve an apology?” I’m suddenly shifting, suspicious and angry. God damnit they’re both so frustrating. This is why Steve has been so damn nosy.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nat tries to dodge the question, “Talk to Y/N! She likes you. You clearly have it bad for her. You two were making out in a tent less than 24 hours ago! God it’s like herding cats!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss at her, if we were anywhere else I’d be bellowing, I’m so fucking angry all I can manage is this whisper-shout. “You and Steve…”

“We didn’t do anything, it just seemed like…” for the first time since I’ve known her, Natasha Romanoff is struggling for the right words. “You just seem good for each other but you kept fucking it up! We just… helped.”

“All of this is just a set up…” I mutter, turning away from her, pushing my fingers through my hair, somehow even less sure than I was 5 minutes ago, and I was pretty damn unsure then. Fuck! “Now I have no idea what she’s thinking. Does she know about this?”

“No! No. This doesn’t change anything, Bucky!” She sounds like she’s pleading but I’m too frustrated to care. “We just tried to give you… opportunities, she doesn’t… she cares about you.”

“I don’t know what the hell to believe.”

Before I can think I’ve stormed out at a brisk pace, one that Natasha knows not to try to match. I speed past Steve and Sam and I hear Steve call but I wave him off, too angry to speak, too frustrated to stop. She went off with Sam’s friend and I don’t know what’s fucking real in all of this and I feel like an idiot and I can’t stand to be around any of them. I just want to get back to the hotel suite and cool off.

I make it a block or two before I see her and it’s all so much worse. She’s stepping out of a casino and Riley’s so close to her. He’s holding onto her arm just above her elbow and pulling her in. I can’t help my jaw clenching hard when he takes her chin and leans forward to kiss her cheek. I can’t see her face and that’s probably a good thing. I don’t want to see her expression when someone else is that close and that soft with her.

I can’t fucking take it so I slam the crosswalk button and cross the street before either of them can spot me, and I let myself get lost in the moving wave of people on the street, dragging me back to our hotel, wishing I’d never agreed to this stupid road trip.

* * *

I make it back to the room, my head swimming, burning with too much. I’m frustrated that this guy swooped in so easily and had her laughing and kissed her, embarrassed that I read so much into everything else that had happened the last few days. This trip has only been a week, why the hell should I have thought things would be different already? I’m angry with myself for being so stupid and I’m annoyed with Sam for bringing Riley around but mostly the idea of spending the rest of the trip packed in that car with her has me crawling out of my skin.

I’m so wrapped up in this hurricane in my head that I never hear her calling my name as I pace down the strip, or as I push frustrated hands into my hair after I slam the button for our floor in the elevator, leaving her standing in the lobby chasing me, again.

I never hear her come into the suite while I splash cold water on my face either, but I do hear the door slam shut behind her. I hear her feet pounding my way but by the time I register the sound and grab a towel to dry my face she’s already in my room hurling pillows at me.

“What…” pillow at my gut, “…the hell…” pillow at my knees, “…is your PROBLEM!?” the last pillow bouncing off the top of my head as I’d bent over to catch the one she’d thrown low.

“My problem?!” I holler back at her, all of my frustration bubbling up unhindered, all of it swirling around her, stemming from her. Fuck, I just want her but she’s making it so goddamn difficult. “You’re the one throwing things!”

“Yeah because I’ve been trying to talk to you for 3 blocks and 40-some stories!” I’ve never seen her this angry. She’s gesturing harshly and staring at me like she’d throw me through the window if she could. “But you were too busy on your stupid imaginary assassin’s catwalk, brooding your way back here!”

I know she’s furious but I just can’t help a small laugh, “My what?” I ask, trying to hold back the grin, hiding it behind the towel as I finally dry my face.

“Shut up, don’t be cute,” she sounds a little less raw but she still climbs halfway across the bed to reach another pillow to toss way, “You’re being a jerk.”

“I am?!” I can feel my eyebrows shoot high and my mouth hanging open, “You’re the one who wandered off giggling and hanging on the very next guy to talk to you!” I shouldn’t have said it. She hasn’t promised me anything, she’s not mine to be jealous over, but here I am.

I hate how she just gets to me and I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me but I pick up one of the pillows and toss it back at her. She catches it easily but the shocked glare she levels at me has me frozen in place just begging her to say something, because if she leaves now I’m done. This is done.

“You…” she mutters finally, throwing the pillow back onto the bed beside where she’s still kneeling. She’s pointing at me now, harsh and truly, deeply angry, hurt, “You’re impossible, you know that? I waited for you! I stood there looking to you for like a full fucking minute, waiting for you to say ANYTHING! But you didn’t. I can’t read your mind, Bucky! God the one time you actually kissed me you acted like it was some fucking burden, and then I gave you a chance to speak up and you let me go!”

“I let you go?! You walked away!” I’m matching her intensity now, I know we’ve both been holding back now, I can see how we’ve been afraid of really being with the other but damnit I’m not ready to let this go and neither is she. “I didn’t realize I had to put a big fucking sign up about it. Fuck, I thought I’d maybe get a courtesy day at least after we… before I’d have to see you kiss another guy!”

This is getting too close, so raw, I can’t stand still so I pace out of the bedroom and over to the bar, pouring myself a drink. Not because I want the drink, so much as to avoid her eyes, to physically get out and away from the intensity of what I’ve just put on the table.

“What?” I hear her confused shout from from the bedroom before she’s bounding into the common area after me, “What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t kissed anyone.”

“Oh c’mon, I saw you, outside the MGM, what…” I’m just being an ass now but I make a show of glancing at my watch, “10 minutes ago?”

“Oh my god,” she sighs sounding completely exasperated and this time I think she’s really done with this. She’s not fighting, she’s not looking at me, her face has gone blank. She just reaches for the liquor and pours herself a glass and swallows it quickly.

I’m just watching her before she finally turns with her back leaning on the bar, her elbows hiked on the counter top. “You’re an idiot,” she answers calmly, “You’re talking about when Riley kissed my cheek?”

“Yeah!” She’s calm but I’m still practically shouting back, raw and tired and incredulous that she’s just so comfortable with this.

“When he said goodbye?”

“I guess?!”

“After I told him I wanted to get back to my friends, to you? Because I knew why Sam had called him, and thanks, but no thanks, because I’m hung up on you? Is that the time you mean?” She’s shaking her head slowly, and waiting for me to say something but I don’t really know what to say, as fucking usual, so she picks up again. Her voice is quieter, a mumble really. “Don’t worry, I’m starting to feel real sorry about it, too.”

My mind is swimming and I still can’t find the right words as she finishes the last sip of her drink and pushes off the counter. I can’t find the damn words but I have to do something so I grab her wrist before she can walk away again. I don’t know who or what god to thank, but I’m so fucking glad when she turns back toward me, her eyes locked on my hand around wrist.

“You make me crazy, you know that?” I manage while my other hand slides over the side of her neck, stepping close to her, so damn close. I can feel how heavy she’s still breathing, and I can tell how unsure she is by the way her chin tips forward just slightly, but she’s still holding back.

I can feel these things, but I don’t see them because I can’t look anywhere but her eyes, pulling her so, so close until she breathes again and I feel her breath on my lips, drawing my eyes straight to them. I want to kiss her so badly, but I wait. I wait for some sign from her that this is okay, that she still wants this after all the anger still hanging in the air.

She lifts one hand and softly, tentatively lets her fingers sprawl across my chest and tilts her head, “Starting to see that, yeah.” There’s a quick smile that passes those perfect lips before I feel her other hand snake over my side and make a fist of the material at the back of my shirt while she tips forward to kiss me so softly. Her lips just gently warm and still on mine for a moment before she pulls away, tugging for half a second at my lip as she does.

Part of me wants to stay there forever, quiet and still, and so soft, but another part is still roiling with the energy of all the tension from the argument. It’s that part that leads my fingers to grip tighter at the back of her neck and pull her in to kiss her hard because after all this I just fucking need more.

She gasps a little, surprised, but quickly molds herself against me. I’ve let go of her wrist and my arm is wrapped across her lower back holding every inch of her I can against me. I can’t help groaning when the hand at my back digs a little sharper into my skin and her hand on my chest pushes over my shoulder, gripping, pulling closer, deepening everything.

There’s a quiet moan that seeps from her mouth into mine and suddenly I can’t keep my hands still, I need to feel her and for her to know that I’m just as hung up on her, even if I keep saying the wrong damn thing. We’re stumbling through the suite, hands tugging at clothes, feeling every curve and ridge, bodies somehow never close enough, mouths still locked on each others’ mouths or necks or shoulders. Frustration and uncertainty finally giving way to the relief of having exactly what I didn’t know I wanted a week ago when I got in that car.

I’ll have to thank Natasha later. She’s going to be so smug about it.


	10. Los Angeles

Laying on the couch in that massive hotel suite with her stretched and exhausted body half on top of mine, all I can think about is how warm and soft she feels like this. I can feel everywhere that our skin meets like I’m glued to her smooth warmth, her cheek pressed flat against my chest, eyes closed, her fingertips lightly tracing over my neck and shoulders, occasionally sending a shiver running across my entire body. I don’t want to move or think, I just want it to be quiet like this, swirling lazy circles over her back like this. This is how it should have been days ago, this is how close I want her all the time.

With a nagging regret I breathe her name and she hums in response, not lifting her head, not moving an inch, apparently as happy as I am to just lay here, but I lean anyway slightly. “We should probably get dressed,” I murmur against the top of her head, “The others could come back any time to check on us.”

“Let them,” she sighs, her arms lazily hugging me tighter against her bare chest, and fuck, I love that feeling. I love the easy comfort, I love the way she feels on my skin and in my arms. “They set it all up anyway, right? Who cares if they see the result.”

I can hear the smile in her voice and I laugh dryly. The movement causes her to look up, resting her chin on her forearm draped over my chest, she’s looking at me with the most comfortable happiness, like she really couldn’t give a shit if anyone walked in that door right now. But I do.

“I care,” I whisper craning to get close to her ear and nip at her neck just below her ear. She curls into her shoulder at the contact, burying her face into my neck. She loves that spot and I catalog it away while my hands dig into her hips, pinning her close, “You’re _my_ girl now, anyone who eyes you has to answer to me.”

“ _Your_ girl. Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Barnes” she teases, squeezing my sides until I’m squirming and laughing, embarrassingly ticklish.

“Very,” I warn jokingly, gripping both of her hands to stop her teasing and pinning them behind her at the small of her back, kissing her hard but slow. It’s like I can never get enough, my tongue gliding against hers, lips pressing and pulling until her teeth slide over my bottom lip, tugging playfully as she pulls away.

“I have an idea,” she whispers, just a breath away.

I let her hands go and she slips off of me - slips away too easily for my liking - and disappears into hers and Nat’s room. I prop myself up on my elbows when she returns with her phone to her ear and a credit card in hand.

She plops down onto the couch behind me and I ease back, letting my head rest in her lap. By the time someone picks up on the other end of the line she’s already carding her fingers through my hair, and I’m humming in appreciation, eyes closed, completely lost in the slightest touch from her.

“Hey Tony,” she casually greets the voice on the other end and I shift, eyeing her with confusion surely written all over my face. “I need a favor.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes when I can hear some overly snarky reply from him. She quickly pinches my ear, leaving me trying to suppress an annoyed yelp. Obviously she doesn’t want me to talk at all during this call.

“Yeah, it seems your favorite murder child is intent on setting me up with Steve’s favorite murder child.” I pinch the soft skin on the inside of her thigh at that, which earns a sharp yelp.

“Ow!” she cries, swatting my hand away from where it had previously been tracing lazy circles. “N-nothing, stubbed my toe. Anyway…” she urges, but she’s busy on the phone and I keep teasing her, rolling over and yanking her legs back so she’s half beneath me while I kiss an unpredictable pattern over her stomach, higher until I’m teasing at her breasts. She arches into my touch as my thumbs grip her sides and sweep over her soft curves.

She sighs before turning her focus back to the conversation on the phone. “They’ve been throwing us together for a week now and _I can’t stand him another second!”_ she hisses into the phone, but glares at me. I just smirk, continuing to kiss her neck and chest, but my hands sliding lower, teasing her relentlessly. “Can you get me my own room here?” she pleads and I stop, lifting an eyebrow. She tilts her head waiting for an answer.

Finally she groans happily, “Oh! You’re a lifesaver, Tony!” My fingers dig into her hips and I fucking love how she bites her lip to try to hold back whatever sweet sound she wants to make while she manages another reply into the phone, “Barnes is driving me crazy.”

I really can’t help smirking now and drag my teeth against the skin of her hip, nipping playfully which really does have her gasping and rolling her hips against my hands. “I-I’ll go down to the front desk for the key. Hey T? Can you make it a room with a jacuzzi? I’m so stressed after a week in the car with these boys.”

When she hangs up she buries her hands in my already tangled hair and drags my face back to hers for a harsh and forceful kiss. She finally pulls away breathless and dazed, her leg resting high on my hip. I’m chewing on my lip, wanting more, needing her, when she shoves me away, jumping to her feet.

“C’mon Barnes,” she taunts over her bare shoulder, “We have a new suite to find.”

* * *

I really fucking love waking up with her tucked under my arm. I love how her fingers lay over my chest and her leg hooks over mine, I love how her hair tickles my neck, and shit I love how her hair smells. I don’t love that I’ve been a complete idiot this entire time and she’s had to make every move while I stood dumbfounded or terrified. But that ends today.

While she’s been sleeping curled into the crook of my shoulder, I woke up over an hour ago and have been planning the day and damn it, this time _I’m_ going to surprise _her_.

She finally wakes with the softest, sweetest groan, burrowing deeper into the blankets, nuzzling against me when there’s a knock at the door. “Who the fuck…?” she mumbles, half asleep. I can’t help laughing, she’s so fucking cute when she’s angry. Maybe that’s why I kept picking fights with her before…

I shake my head before I kiss her temple and tuck a wild tangle behind her ear, “It’s breakfast.”

“Later,” she grumbles, her arm hooking around me and god I love it so much. It’s so new but I really fucking love it.

“There is no later, they won’t bring it back,” I laugh, sliding away, “Stay here, I’ll get it.”

When I make it back into the bedroom of the slightly smaller suite she’d convinced Tony to get for just her, well us, she’s a little less hostile. She’s sitting up, hugging her knees and blinking into the sunlight that’s pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

When I set the tray down in front of her, climbing back under the covers beside her, she shoves me gently by the shoulder, picking up the fork. “Look at you, Casanova! Breakfast in bed!” She grins, stuffing a piece of chocolate chip pancake into her mouth and groaning with satisfaction.

“I have ideas too, you know.”

“You do?” she’s feigning shock,  “That popsicle of a brain finally thawed out, huh?” she teases, pushing her fingers into my hair.

I lean into her touch, rolling my eyes. “I’ve got another idea, smartass,” I inform her, rolling off the bed and heading for the shower after tossing her phone into her lap, “Text Natasha and tell her we haven’t killed each other yet and we’ll see them in a day or two.”

“A day or two?!” she shrieks, surprised and curious, but I just step into the shower, letting the smug satisfaction tug the corners of my lips into a smirk.

* * *

“What’s this?” She asks, slowly, watching me spin the keys around my finger.

“I was tired of being stuffed into the backseat,” I shrug, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but…” she seems lost for a minute, her eyes following the smooth lines of the expensive sports car, “We definitely aren’t all going to fit in this thing.”

“No, but you and I will.”

I don’t give her another second to think it through, I just slide into the driver’s side, my arm, resting over the passenger seat, her seat, looking at her. “You comin’, cолнышко?”

Her attention snaps away from the car and onto me. My lopsided smile must convince her because she finally breaks into a grin and climbs over the door and into the front seat of the sleek convertible. I peel away, unable to hide the smile crawling over every corner of my face as we head straight for the highway.

* * *

“Alright, Barnes,” she shouts over the sound of Southern California whipping by, the wind pulling her hair in every direction, but an unburdened smile tugging at her lips. Fuck, if we weren’t going 80 miles an hour I’d grab her chin right now and lean over and kiss those soft, smiling lips, but all I can do is look at them and then keep my eyes on the road, smiling at the thought. “Your turn. What d’you want to listen to?” she asks, waving the ipod in front of me.

“You pick,” I tell her, tucking a piece of hair that’s fallen out of the tight bun back behind my ear. It doesn’t last long, the wind whips it back into wild patterns in front of me.

“Oh come on!” she insists, “You’ve been trying to swipe this thing from Sam since we left New York City, you’ve got to have something in mind!”

I shrug, drawing a blank. “I mostly just wanted to piss him off. I don’t even know what music he has on there.”

A rich laugh ripples through her, her head falling back, “Are you serious? Poor Sammie!” She settles to a soft giggle swiping through the options on the ipod. “You really are a pain in the ass when you want to be.”

“True,” I agree and without a second thought my hand darts from the gear shift to the soft skin just above her knee, my fingers spread across half of her leg and I squeeze.

She jolts and yelps, laughing “Bucky! S-stop it!” She’s squirming and giggling, trying to push me away. She finally has my hand in both of hers, and I relent. “No. Tickling!” she sternly informs, fighting the smile threatening to erupt across her face, already beaming in her eyes.

“Alright, alright, would you sit back down?” I nod towards her, curled high in her seat, legs tangled beneath her, pressed against the door like she’d climb out given half a chance.

“Only if you promise!”

“Okay!” I laugh, holding my hands up for half a second in surrender, “No tickling.”

“You better not,” she slides back down but stays curled to the far side of her seat, “I take promises very seriously, mister.”

I know she’s half joking, playing into the game, but I can also tell she’s not joking at all by the way she’s chewing her lip and looking out the would-be window at the increasingly more angular peaks of green covered mountains as we pass through the last stretch of wild earth before the concrete of Los Angeles will be sprawling below us.

“What’s that look about?” I blurt out. I don’t know if it’s the right thing, I never fucking know with her so I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. It came out sounding more aggressive than I’d intended so I reach for her, my arm resting over the back of her seat, just dusting my fingertips over the back of her neck, in what I hope are comforting swirls. “You okay?”

“Hmm?” she hums, half distracted turning back to me with a less than convincing smile, one she clearly thought would end this line of questions. “Always.”

“Don’t do that.”

She looks at me, startled and confused, “Do what?”

“Don’t lie to me,” The confusion in her face quickly gives way to surprise, she looks like she doesn’t quite know what to say. It doesn’t surprise me. She’s always light and easy, she’s used to putting things like this away, used to showing only the good and storing the bad away, but I can’t let her do that. I want to be with her but I have enough bad to swallow us both whole, so she’ll want to hide hers away but that’s not fair and it will leave her feeling hurt and completely alone when I’m right fucking here. I can’t let that happen. “What happened, there?”

“Nothing, Bucky, it’s stupid. I’m just being melodramatic.” She waves her hand, dismissing it.

“Tell me or this car stops and we’ll dry up out here in the sun before we even make it to a beach.”

She groans rolling her head dramatically to look at me with an exhausted and annoyed expression so I just slow the car down and flick on the hazard lights.

“Oh my god! Fine!” she shouts, “I just, I don’t know why I bothered to make you promise, that’s all.” I don’t say anything, just pull off to the side of the highway, which annoys her, apparently. “Bucky c’mon! Drive!”

“And?” I ask, turning to face her as I throw the parking brake on.

She huffs, crossing her arms and willfully avoiding my eyes, staring out the front window. “And!… and promises are pointless! I could promise that I’m a sea lion, that doesn’t make it true. You could promise to take me to the moon; doesn’t mean it’ll happen!” She shifts, looking at her hands, pushing at the edge of her nails. “I just… I know better. You don’t have to worry about it. You… you don’t have to make me any promises, Bucky. _Don’t_ make me any promises.”

“Look,” I start, choosing my words carefully, slowly, “I don’t know who lied to you, or which one has you constantly running, or why you chose to chart them all on a map that you think is going to save you one day, but it won’t.” She’s still staring straight ahead, but I can see her take in a deep and shaking breath. Hoping she won’t shut me out for this, I start brushing the backs of my fingers up and down her shoulder, begging her to soften just a little. “You don’t need saving.”

That snags her attention, her eyes snap to mine, but her face is completely unreadable, so I keep going. “You don’t. You carry that map around marking off every place that isn’t right for you and the people along with it, but you’re… You’re still you no matter where you go, and that’s… it’s enough. You are… more than enough.”

The tension hangs in the air for what seems like too long. She opens her mouth like she’s going to speak but she doesn’t, finally biting down on her lip. I know that feeling, that it will take time to believe. Eventually it seems like if we don’t move on we’ll be stuck in this heavy silence forever, so I just say the first idiot thing that pops into my head, “But I guess if a promise doesn’t cut it I can sign a written contract that I won’t tickle you or something.”

Mercifully, she laughs, it’s breathy and wet, and the way her eyes turn up at her smile forces those few heavy tears to spill onto her cheeks. I hate it. I fucking hate seeing her cry, but I think maybe this is a good thing. And I love the sound of her laugh, even this one, dampened by the weight of a past I know nothing about. “A no-tickling clause? We can get Tony’s lawyers to look it over so it’s iron clad.” She snorts at that.

“You did not just make that pun,” she groans playfully, wiping her tears away on the heels of her palms. “Iron clad,” she mutters.

“But that means you have to sign one that protects me against glitter in the hardware.” I gesture towards my left arm, shifting the plates slightly and she really does laugh.

“You brought that on yourself, buddy.”

“Nobody deserves that, Y/N” I answer her with mock seriousness, putting the car back in gear. “Nobody.”

* * *

We took our time driving down into L.A., turning off everywhere that there was something we wanted to see, well, that she wanted to see.

First we skirt town to wind up to Griffith Observatory, she climbs out of the car and grips my hand the entire time, dragging me to the top to look out over the city while the sun sets over the web of lights that die out into the dark water beyond. The skies are far from clear, so it’s not a good day for stars, but it means the clouds light up pink and orange before the sun disappears, or so I’m told. I’ve just been watching the warm light on her face until she nudges me, and then drops her head onto my shoulder.

“This was a good idea, Bucky,” she murmurs, finally relaxed, finally away from everyone apparently intent on directing our lives. Wanting to stay for a while, here, where it’s quiet and she’s happy and I’m with her, I wrap an arm around her shoulders, guiding her in front of me where I cross both arms over her, holding her tight. She shifts, tilting her head so she can press even closer. I kiss her temple before pressing my cheek to her hair.

Her skin is still warm from the sun even as it sets, her hands hold onto my forearms that are pinning her in front of me. I can’t help scoffing slightly, thinking this is such a normal happy couple thing, this is what normal people do, and I never thought I’d have something like that again. Not ever. But here I am with this girl who drives me crazy, but drags me out to places like this and makes me forget for a second what I was. I don’t know how I missed her for so long.

We stop for take-out in Chinatown on our way down and sit at the edge of the fountains in Grand Park to eat. The water glows now that night’s fallen. We go past the Disney Concert Hall, which she makes me swear - not promise - to take her to before we leave.

She somehow talks me into breaking into the Bradbury building where she sprints through, using her fingers as a gun insisting Blade Runner is real. I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about and I’m tense the whole time, afraid she’s going to get us caught. She just laughs and shoves my arm, complaining that I need to relax and that she’ll add Blade Runner to the Netflix queue.

It’s late when we finally make it to the condo Nat had rented for us as the final destination for this road trip. It’s big and sleek, a long glass balcony hovers over the beach below, the water lapping at the sand just beyond, just barely out of sight.

The others aren’t here yet, and I’m starting to think they won’t be coming. I come back from the car with our bags and when I don’t find her in any of the bedrooms I drop them in the living room before I spot her out on the balcony. I can see the wind picking up the pages of the atlas, her forearm extended over it to keep it open, and a deep sigh drops my shoulders. That goddamn atlas.

“What’re you doing?” I ask quietly, stepping out onto the balcony behind her. It’s cooler now, the humidity hanging in the air that had made the warmth of the day stick to my skin now feels like a cold grip under the wet, breeze from the ocean.

“Just…” she didn’t make it any further, probably knowing I won’t like the answer. I only don’t like it because it’s hurting her. “I’ve never been this far,” she admits, tracing the highway to the edge of Nevada before turning the pages, looking for California.

She’s already mapping this place before she’s even seen it, eliminating it, putting it in a corner where it’s safe and risk-free. I decide right then that this we’re done with this atlas.

“Then let’s go a little further,” I urge her with a lazy smile, my fingers ghosting down her arm until I tangle my fingers with hers and pull her to her feet.

“Where are we going, Bucky?” she asks slowly, suspicious, glancing behind her at the now vulnerable book full of page after page of detailed and carefully recorded maps.

“Past the map.”

She laughs out my name when I turn and pull her at a half-jog down the stairs until my feet hit the sand. I kick off my shoes and pull off my t-shirt and shorts, but she’s paused 2 steps above me.

“What are you doing, Bucky?”

“ _We_ …” I emphasize, grabbing her waist, her hands fall to my shoulders as I lift her down the last few steps “…are going for a swim. Shoes.” I nod to her feet, pressing her to take them off.

“What? I have a bathing suit inside…”

“Yeah, and then you’ll have time to find some nautical map and plan every last second of your life.”

“Bucky! I just want to put on my–”

“Are you going to wear your clothes in or not?” I cut her off and she just stares at me, mouth hanging open right where I cut her off. “Okay then.”

I don’t give her another second before I grab her hand and drag her behind me, racing toward the water. I’m biting my lip, laughing at her giggling, half-hearted protests. I don’t slow down or let go when my feet splash into the water, not until I’m waist deep and it’s even deeper on her.

She’s breathing heavy and laughing and pushing her hair back. “I think I should call Steve, you’ve obviously lost your mind.”

“Of the two of us, you’re the one who casually jumps off of cliffs.”

She doesn’t answer right away, just sweeps her arm in the water, sending a small wave leaping up into my face. I turn back, wiping my eyes with a shocked smile. “You’re going to regret that, cолнышко.”

“Oh yeah?” she taunts, backing away toward the shore, but I easily have the upper hand. The water comes much higher on her, slowing her down. She doesn’t stand a chance when I dive for her. My hands gliding over her waist and pulling her under with me despite her laughing scream.

I don’t let go when we resurface seconds later, wrapping my arms tighter, pulling her closer while she lifts her arms, pushing her wet, heavy hair from her face. She finally looks at me slightly outraged, but mostly smiling, her tongue runs across the bottom of her teeth and I’m fucking gone.

My hand flies to the back of her head, the other still holding her to me, and my lips crash into hers. I kiss her forcefully, the cold, salty water dripping down our faces, making every movement faster, my lips sliding across hers until she gasps for breath and nips at my lip. Both of her hands tangle in my hair, and she’s arching, pressing every last inch of her body against mine while my hands start roaming over her back and I’m cursing the fabric she’s still wearing. Every crashing wave that breaks against us is like a pulse in this embrace, forcing me somehow tighter against her.

She pulls away suddenly, drawing in a quick breath, her hands still in my hair, then suddenly they’re on top of my head and she’s pushing me under the water. I can hear her laughter from underneath but when I make it back to the surface she’s swimming away, nearly to the shore. I dive after her and catch her ankle pulling myself up to meet her.

She collapses half on the beach, laying on her back laughing with water still lapping over her legs and stomach. I trudge through the water to her and hold my hands out to her to help pull her back to her feet. There’s no way I’m laying in the sand, that shit never, and I mean never, gets out of the plates and wiring in my arm. Thankfully she’s too tired to try to pull me down into the sand and lets me drag her up, begging me to carry her back to the condo.

With her arms hooked around my shoulders, and her legs wrapped around my waist, her cold wet skin is pressed tight against my back and her chin digs into my shoulder as I make straight for the bathroom so we can rinse the salt and sand from our skin. I can feel her warm breath on my neck though, and soon I feel the soft press of her lips, again and again, slow and deliberate, her arms and legs still clinging tight, like she needs this or like she’s afraid I’m going to slip through her fingers.

She doesn’t let go when I stop so I ease back to the counter and bend until she’s gently resting on it and I squeeze her legs so she’ll let go. Her legs drop, but her hands don’t leave my skin as I turn around to her. I catch her eye just as she’s taking in a deep, weighted breath, her icy fingertips drifting down my chest. She looks sad and lost, and I can’t figure out why or how, so I just slowly tuck her hair behind her ear and drop my forehead to hers.

“Bucky?” she breathes.

“Yeah?”

It takes a minute for her to get the next part out, after worrying at her lip, “Are we… Is this like camping at Jenny Lake? I-is this only good because it’s vacation?”

A heavy sigh escapes me before I can stop it, remembering the conversation we’d had by the lake in Wyoming about how some things are perfect because they’re temporary and that’s what makes the memory so rich. But I hear the real question she’s asking, what she really wants to know and it hurts. _Is this temporary? Are we?_

“No, cолнышко,” I answer her firmly, taking her face in my hands, “this is nothing like vacation.”

Her hand falls over one of mine, her fingers curling over mine before her eyes flick up to mine, “Are you sure?”

“I’ll put it in the no-tickling contract,” I tease with a small smile. She indulges me with a soft laugh. I know there’s nothing I can say that will make her believe me because anything I say is a promise. I have an idea, though. But it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

* * *

I wake up early, the light just starting to filter into the bedroom. I’m tangled around her, my arm falls so easily into the curve of her waist when she lays on her side like this, like it should always be there. Her hair smells like shampoo but a little like the ocean still, now that it’s dried in messy tangles. The smell immediately has my mind wandering to last night, her fingernails running over my scalp, massaging shampoo into my hair, the smooth give of her skin while I slowly coaxed soap across every inch of her body.

She hums softly, shifting in her sleep, drawing my attention to the fact that my fingers have been dancing over her skin while I drifted in the memory. I shake my head to pull myself out of it, not wanting to wake her, remembering that I have something to do.

I slip out of bed as gently as I can, careful not to wake her and while I get dressed for a run.

* * *

When I make it back she’s already up, picking through a bowl of fruit. I move behind her and press a kiss to her shoulder and she jumps.

“Holy shit, you scared me!” she mutters in one quick breath.

“Sorry,” I mumble against her skin, “I have something for you.”

She grins, confused, as I slide it over to her, the thing I ran out for this morning. She picks it up and turns it over, her eyebrows pulling together, eyes narrowing, looking more suspicious by the minute.

“I don’t get it. Why do I need a map of New York? We’re in LA? And we live in New York, I think I know it well enough.”

“Well that’s the thing, cолнышко,” I hum, wrapping my arms around her waist, not much caring if I’m sweaty from my run. “You’ve marked New York off your atlas, but I don’t think you’ve really given it a fair shot.”

Her eyebrow arches, suddenly understanding. “Oh really? I think I’ve given New York _plenty_ of chances.”

“Not in the right places. Now you’re going to see New York with me. I think you’ll really like Brooklyn.”

She laughs at that, resting her chin on my chest while she looks up at me, her arms wrapping around me. “Brooklyn, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“I guess I could give Brooklyn another shot,” she finally concedes, I can feel her smiling as she kisses the corner of my mouth.

“Good, because I like Brooklyn. Best hot dogs,” I tell her, kissing her nose. She looks so damn sweet when she closes her eyes and crinkles her nose, leaning further into me. “And you’ve gotta learn to love it, darlin’, ‘cause I’m keeping you.”

She pulls away from me, but not enough that I can’t keep my arms around her waist. Her eyes dart between mine for a moment before she finally speaks, “I think I maybe, kind of love you.”

I’ve caught my lip between my teeth, only to keep myself from grinning like an idiot. She’s looking up at me with a lazy smirk until I slide my fingers over the side of her neck, my thumb sweeping over her chin, tipping her face up towards me. I kiss her slow and soft while her hands ball fists of my t-shirt behind my back.

I pull away just slightly, still holding onto her, staying just inches from her as I whisper, “I maybe kind of love you, too,” before I kiss her again.


End file.
